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THE  ADVENTURES  OF 
TWO  ALABAMA  BOYS 


M 
o 


C 

PQ 


The  Adventures  of  Two 
Alabama  Boys 


In  Three  Sections 


By  H.  J.  and  W.  B.  Crumpton 


Part  One 

The   Adventures   of  Dr.    H.    J.  Crumpton,  of 

Piedmont,   California,  in  his   efforts   to  reach 

the  Gold  Fields  in  1849 

Part  Two 
The  Adventures  of  Rev.  W.  B.  Crumpton,  going 
to  and  returning  from  California,  including  his 
Lecture,  "  The  Original  Tramp,  or  How  a  Boy 
Got  through    the   Lines  to  the  Confederacy  " 

Part  Three 

To    California    and    Back    after    a    Lapse    of 
Forty    Years 


Montgomery,  Ala. 

The    Paragon    Press 

1912 


Copyright  1912  by  W.  B.  Crumpton 


Printed  at  the  Paragon  Press 


Dedication 

We  dedicate  the  little  booklet  to  our 
children.  Maybe  others  will  be  inter- 
ested also.  We  are  certain  there  are  im- 
portant lessons  here  for  young  people, 
who  are  in  earnest.  For  the  frivolous 
and  thoughtless  there  is  nothing. 

"The  Boys:' 


Foreword. 

H  E  ADVENTURES  0  F 
TWO  ALABAMA  BOYS 
was  prepared  some  years 
ago  with  the  view  of  put- 
ting it  in  book  form;  but  "The  Boys" 
have  been  so  very  busy  the  publication 
has  been  delayed. 

SECTION  ONE  contains  the  adven- 
tures of  Dr.  H.  J.  Crumpton,  a  native 
of  Wilcox  county,  but  since  '49  a  citizen 
of  California,  now  residing  on  a  beauti- 
ful spot  in  Piedmont,  a  suburb  of  the 
city  of  Oakland. 

These  incidents  which  he  relates,  his 
baby  brother,  the  writer  of  these  lines, 
heard  when  he  was  a  scrap  of  a  boy. 
They  made  a  profound  impression  on 
his  youthful  mind,  and  he  has  ever  cher- 
ished the  hope  that  some  day  he  might 
see  them  in  print.    They  were  prepared 


at  my  earnest  solicitation.  I  feel  sure 
it  was  no  easy  task  to  dig  up  from  mem- 
ory almost  forgotten  incidents  and  put 
them  in  shape  for  the  reader.  At  this 
writing,  though  he  is  advanced  in  years, 
past  eighty-four,  the  good  wife  writes: 
"He  is  smart  and  active  as  ever — walks 
fifteen  miles  and  it  doesn't  feaze  him." 

One  of  the  most  noted  buildings  in 
San  Francisco  is  that  of  the  Society  of 
California  Pioneers,  of  which  Society  he 
is  an  honored  member  and  a  Vice-Pres- 
ident. His  opinion  of  politics  one  can 
discover  by  a  letter  to  the  writer.  He 
says:  "I  am  forced  to  the  conclusion, 
after  serving  in  the  Legislature  of  my 
adopted  State  several  terms  and  in  a 
local  municipality,  that  politics  is  a 
filthy  pool."  An  opinion  shared  by  a 
good  many  others.  Some  are  said  to  be 
born  politicians;  but  I  am  sure  none 
were  born  in  the  Crumpton  family.  Ev- 
ery one  of  the  name  I  have  ever  known, 
felt  great  interest  in  all  public  questions 
and  had  opinions  about  them,  but  office 
seeking  has  not  been  to  their  liking. 

A  family  trait  is,  an  undying  love  for 
the  old  haunts.     This   caused   the   old 

8 


Forty  Niner,  when  he  possessed  the 
means  to  do  so,  to  purchase  the  old  farm 
of  his  father,  fulfilling  in  part,  no  doubt, 
a  dream  of  his  youthful  days. 

Though  in  the  land  of  the  enemy  he 
was  loyal  to  the  South  during  the  war 
between  the  States,  proving  his  faith 
by  his  works  when  he  invested  much  of 
his  means  in  Confederate  Bonds.  The 
Confederacy  failing,  of  course  this  was 
a  clear  loss  to  him.  Just  at  the  break- 
ing out  of  the  Civil  War,  he  returned 
to  California  to  look  after  his  interests 
there  and  to  see  what  had  become  of 
me.  If  the  reader  will  turn  to  my  let- 
ters which  follow,  he  will  get  the  con- 
nection. 

He  failed  to  tell  a  most  interesting 
event  in  his  history:  When  a  miner, 
he  often  took  on  his  knee  a  wee-bit  of 
a  girl,  Mattie  by  name,  the  daughter  of 
William  Jack,  a  stury  old  Scotch- 
Irishman,  from  Beloit,  Wis.  She  called 
him  "sweetheart,"  and  he  often  took 
her  pledge  to  be  his  wife  some  day. 
Sure  enough,  the  old  bachelor  waited, 
and  little  Mattie  has  been  for  many 
years  the  mistress  of  his  home.     In  one 


of  the  most  cozy  cottages  of  Sausalito, 
nestling  against  the  mountain,  with  the 
Bay  and  the  City  of  San  Francisco  at 
its  front,  it  was  my  pleasure  to  visit  the 
little  family  some  years  ago.  It  had 
been  forty  years  since  I  had  seen  my 
brother.  In  her  father's  home  in  1862, 
near  Beloit,  I  had  spent  two  months  de- 
lightfully, while  stealthily  preparing  to 
make  my  way  through  the  lines  to  the 
Confederacy.  I  know  it  was  in  his 
heart  to  tell  of  his  wife  and  his  charm- 
ing daughter,  Clara,  the  light  and  joy 
of  the  home;  but  the  burden  of  writing 
was  too  much,  and  abruptly  he  gave  up 
the  job. 

I  am  glad  indeed  the  Adventures  be- 
gin with  something  of  the  family  his- 
tory. He  is  the  only  member  of  the 
family  remaining  who  knows  anything 
about  it  (there  are  only  two  of  us  now) . 
I  am  mortified  that  I  failed  to  find  out 
some  of  the  facts  from  my  father,  who 
was  so  long  with  me  in  his  old  age. 

My  brother,  after  his  adventurous  life 
in  the  mines,  served  his  adopted  State 
in  the  Legislature  and  later  settled 
down,  after  graduation,  to  the  practice 

10 


of  medicine,  a  profession  he  seemed  to 
have  a  liking  for  from  his  boyhood.  At 
this  writing  he  is  a  citizen  of  Piedmont, 
California.  He  is  hale  and  hearty  and 
says  that  in  1915,when  the  Panama  Ca- 
nal is  opened,  he  is  going  to  visit  the 
States  again  and  bring  his  wife.  Every 
foot  of  the  route  across  the  Isthmus 
will  be  familiar,  as  he  crossed  it  several 
times,  one  time  partly  on  foot,  before 
the  railroad  was  completed. 

W.  B.  CRUMPTON. 
Montgomery,  Ala. 


11 


Part  One 


By  H.  J.   Crumpton 

The  Adventures  of  Dr.  H.    J.    Crumpton 

of  Piedmont,  California,  in   his   efforts  to 

reach  the  Gold  Fields  in  1849 

Recollections  of  the  family  life;  Arrival  in 
Alabama;  Moves  to  town;  Changes  vocation; 
Becomes  a  printer;  The  Mexican  War;  Starts 
on  his  wanderings;  The  gold  excitement; 
Starts  for  the  Far  West;  New  acquaintances; 
Another  start  West;  'Strikes  out  all  alone;  A 
plunge  in  the  overflow;  Falls  in  with  the  mil- 
itary; Strikes  hands  with  old  friends;  Food 
scarce;  Confronted  by  Indians;  Alone  again; 
Reaches  California;  Loses  his  oxen;  In  God's 
country  at  last;  Gets  a  job;  Takes  sail; 
Hears  sad  tidings;  No  pay  for  services;  At 
Oro  City;  In  the  mines;  At  rough-and-ready; 
Starts  back  home;  In  a  wreck;  On  the  Pan- 
ama; In  New  Orleans;  Finds  his  brother;  De- 
tained in  Mobile;  Business  complications; 
Back  to  the  mines;  Returns  to  Alabama; 
Opinion  about  slavery. 


13 


Part  One 


Y  DEAR  Brother  Wash : 
You  asked  me  to  prepare 
some  notes  on  the  wander- 
ings of  an  Alabama  Boy. 
To  do  this  from  memory  after  such  a 
lapse  of  time  will  be  somewhat  inac- 
curate and  prosy,  I  fear. 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  THE  FAMILY  LIFE. 


Our  parents  were  married  about  1816. 
Mother  was  Miss  Matilda  Smith  Bryan 
and  father  Henry  T.  Crumpton.  Both 
sprang  from  honorable,  well-to-do  peo- 
ple from  revolutionary  sires,  who  were 
soldiers  of  distinction  under  General 
Francis  Marion.  Our  maternal  grand- 
father was  Rev.  Richard  Bryan,  a  Meth- 
odist preacher.  Our  parents  started 
married  life  in  Walterboro,  Colleton 
District,  S.  C,  where  were  born  to  them 

15 


Mary,  Richard  Alexander,  Maranda 
Ann,  Henry  Thomas,  Hezekiah  John, 
(myself,  born  Sept.  18,  1828),  and  Wil- 
liam Zachariah;  the  balance  of  the  ten 
children,  afterwards  born  in  Alabama 
were  James  Henderson,  Martha  Matil- 
da, Jane  Eliza,  and  Washington  Bryan, 
yourself,  the  baby.  All  have  now  passed 
into  the  life  beyond  except  you  and  me. 
In  Walterboro  our  father  developed 
into  something  of  a  plunger  in  the  fi- 
nancial world;  made  several  successful 
deals,  later  formed  a  partnership — the 
other  fellow  furnishing  experience,  our 
progenitor  the  "dough."  They  invested 
in  the  purchase  and  driving  of  cattle 
to  supply  the  Charleston  beef  market. 
They  succeeded  well,  always  re-invest- 
ing original  capital  and  profit  in  an- 
other and  bigger  lot,  finally  meeting  a 
calamity  by  the  drowning  of  the  whole 
herd  in  attempting  to  cross  a  swollen 
stream,  Broad  River,  perhaps  at  its 
mouth  and  perhaps  from  not  knowing 
of  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide,  though 
living  within  forty  miles  of  the  coast. 
With  a  feeling  of  disgust,  following  this 
financial  collapse,  our  father  sought  new 

16 


environment,  and  by  the  aid  of  kins  folk 
loaded  up  family  and  household  belong- 
ings in  1832  and  struck  out  through  the 
wilderness  for  Alabama,  across  Georgia 
through  the  Chickasaw  and  Choctaw  na- 
tions, before  the  removal  of  those  and 
other  friendly  tribes  was  completed  to 
the  territory  now  forming  part  of  the 
State  of  Oklahoma. 

ARRIVAL  IN  ALABAMA. 

After  a  dreary  trip,  we  safely  landed 
at  the  delightful  home  of  grandmother 
Bryan  near  "Fort  Rascal,"  now  Pleas- 
ant Hill,  Dallas  Co.  We  afterwards 
moved  to  old  Cahaba,  where  our  father 
succeeded  well  in  business.  The  arrival 
of  a  steamboat  was  quite  an  event,  oc- 
curring maybe  once  a  month ;  everybody 
turned  out.  They  had  a  crude  way  of 
loading  cotton.  A  bale  was  carelessly 
turned  loose  and  rolled  over  our  brother 
Henry,  who  sustained  injuries  from 
which  he  died.  This  was  such  a  shock 
for  poor  mother,  it  was  determined  best 
to  have  a  change  of  scenes.  Our  fam- 
ily removed  from  old  Cahaba  to  Farm- 

17 


ersville,  a  little  hamlet  in  Lowndes 
county.  One  thing  about  our  stay  there 
is  vividly  remembered.  A  dear,  good  old 
soul,  named  Ingram,  was  my  school 
teacher  in  the  log-cabin  school  house. 
He  didn't  know  much  and  didn't  try  to 
fool  anybody ;  but  he  was  a  great  stick- 
ler for  what  he  called  "etiket" — was 
bent  on  teaching  his  children  good  man- 
ners. Just  about  all  of  Friday  was  de- 
voted to  this  stunt.  It  was  quite  a  re- 
lief, after  we  got  rid  of  our  bashfulness. 
The  previous  four  days,  twelve  hours 
each,  with  our  prosy  studies,  put  us  in 
good  shape  for  a  change  on  Friday. 
The  dear  old  fellow  managed  to  work 
in  more  or  less  change  of  program  from 
time  to  time;  but  one  inflexible  feature 
was  to  send  one  of  the  girls  out  of  one 
of  the  side  doors,  then  detail  some  boy 
to  go  out  the  other,  to  escort  her  back 
and  introduce  her  to  each  one  of  the 
whole  school,  an  ordeal  to  which  every 
boy  and  girl  had  to  be  subjected.  Some 
regarded  this  as  a  hardship,  but  to  this 
degenerate  son  of  Adam  'twas  always 
a  roaring  farce  and  as  good  as  a  circus ! 
Our  family  about  this  time  came  into 

18 


possession  of  quite  an  inheritance, 
which  was  added  to  the  proceeds  from 
sale  of  the  effects  at  Cahaba,  and  in- 
vested in  a  fine  body  of  land,  about  the 
junction  of  Grindstone  and  Bear  Creek3, 
in  Wilcox  county.  Our  charming  new 
home  was  built  on  high  ground  on  Dog- 
wood Level,  a  little  way  from  the  farm, 
where  we  had  a  spring  of  fine  water 
and  plenty  of  good  air.  By  this  time 
three  of  us  boys  were  big  enough 
to  work  and  strong,  willing  work- 
ers we  were.  With  no  experience 
and  not  always  guided  in  our 
farming,  we  got  along  better  than 
neighbors  to  the  manner  born,  and  were 
learning  and  doing  fairly  well.  It  was 
perhaps  the  mistake  of  a  lifetime  to 
accept  an  offer  to  sell  the  whole  outfit, 
at  figures  far  in  advance  of  cost  or 
apparent  present  value,  to  people  who 
knew  a  good  thing  when  they  saw  it — 
the  Maxwells — a  noble  acquisition  to 
that  then  border  settlement. 

MOVED  TO  TOWN. 

We  moved  to  the  county  seat,  Barbers- 

19 


ville,  now  Camden,  and  went  into  the 
hotel  business.  We  furnished  a  good 
table,  clean  house,  clean  beds,  was  pop- 
ular and  crowded  from  the  start — lots 
of  old  family  friends  from  far  and  near, 
called  for  entertaining  whom  it  would 
have  been  an  outrage  on  Southern  hos- 
pitality to  tender,  or  accept  compensa- 
tion. In  this  way  all  profits  were 
"chawed  up" — a  mighty  poor  way  to 
run  a  hotel.  But  we  older  boys  were 
pretty  good  hustlers,  earned  enough  to 
help  along,  tiding  over  and  in  the  edu- 
cation of  the  younger  children. 

My  first  stunt  in  that  direction  was 
starting  an  express  and  stage  line.  Car- 
ried passengers  and  freight  between  our 
town  and  Bridgeport,  nearest  landing 
on  the  Alabama  River.  My  outfit  was 
a  one-horse  affair  with  a  highly  prized 
annex — an  undersized  black  cur,  "Beav- 
er,"— worthless  in  the  estimation  of 
everyone,  other  than  his  affectionate 
owner. 

About  this  time,  two  enterprising 
young  men  from  New  England  started 
a  general  store  at  the  landing.  On  a 
return  trip  from  the  East  to  buy  goods, 

20 


one  of  them  brought  with  him  a  large 
Newfoundland  dog — the  first  one  in 
those  parts,  which  he  "sicked"  onto 
Beaver.  Owing  to  the  difference  in  size, 
results  were  quick  and  one-sided.  See- 
ing me  crying  in  affectionate,  helpless 
distress,  the  fellow  had  the  heartless  bad 
taste  to  exultingly  ask:  "What  do  you 
think  of  that,  young  man?"  My  re- 
sponse between  sobs  was:  "You,  a  big 
man,  made  a  big  dog  lick  a  little  boy's 
little  dog.  By  and  by,  I  will  be  as  big 
as  you  and  will  then  do  to  you  what  has 
been  done  today  to  my  Beaver."  Years 
afterwards,  when,  perhaps,  as  the  first 
successful  Califorian  to  return,  the  peo- 
ple of  dear  old  Camden  tendered  me 
quite  an  ovation,  he  of  the  dog  fight, 
among  them,  was  loud  in  expressing 
welcome  and  personal  admiration,  which 
made  it  decidly  bad  taste  in  me  to  allude 
to  the  old  thing,  by  saying:  "If  now 
the  attempt  was  made  to  execute  the 
promised  retaliation,  it  would  show  a 
malicious,  revengeful  spirit,  without  in 
any  way  changing  what  occurred  in  the 
long  ago,  so  please  consider  the  incident 
closed,"  and  so  it  was  with  a  snap. 

21 


CHANGE  OF  VOCATION. 

Maybe  the  dog  fight  prompted  a 
change  of  vocation  to  that  of  mail  car- 
rier, on  horse  back  or  mule  back,  the 
route  extending  from  Cahaba  down  the 
river  by  Cambridge*  to  Prairie 
Bluff,  across  the  river  and  up  by 
old  Canton,  to  Camden,  Bells  Land- 
ing, Claiborne,  thence  to  Stockton, 
in  Baldwin  county,  and  serving  inter- 
vening post  offices.  It  required  six  days 
to  make  a  round  trip  with  the  seventh 
day  off,  Thursday,  either  at  Stockton  or 
the  other  end.  At  Stockton,  as  a  gov- 
ernment attache,  one  had  the  privilege 
to  go  on  the  mail  boat  to  Mobile  and 
return  after  a  stay  of  five  hours 
— quite  a  treat  for  a  country  boy. 
Whereas,  a  day  off  at  the  other  end  in- 
volved an  extra  ride  of  ten  miles  to  Sel- 
ma  and  return,  because  the  contractor 

*The  post  ortice  at  Cambridge  was  in  the 
home  of  a  planter,  C.  M.  Cochran,  H.  J.  C. 
carried  the  mail  into  that  home  many  a  time, 
about  the  time  the  other  Alabama  boy  was 
born.  Into  that  home  the  latter  entered  in 
1870  and  took  the  baby  daughter  of  the  old 
post  master  to  be  his  wife.  The  post  office 
has  been  long  known  as  Crumptonia. — W.  B.  C. 

22 


lived  there,  and  thus  saved  the  keep  of 
boy  and  horse  in  Cahaba. 

With  an  ambition  to  do  faithful  and 
efficient  service,  reckless  risks  were 
some  times  taken.  I  once  got  into  Flat 
Creek,  when  the  old  worn-out  mule  was 
unable  to  stem  the  stiff  current.  We 
were  carried  down  stream  toward  the 
river  not  far  away.  A  friendly  over- 
hanging grape-vine  gave  me  a  stopping 
place  and  not  far  below  the  mule  lodged 
in  a  submerged  tree-top.  My  lusty  yells 
brought  the  good  Samaritan.  When 
about  to  swim  out  to  rescue  me,  he  was 
disgusted  when  told  to  first  save  the 
mule  and  mail.  This  he  did  in  good 
shape;  meantime,  I  did  my  own  swim- 
ming. The  water  was  emptied  out  of 
the  mail  bag,  the  bag  thrown  across  the 
saddle,  the  mule  mounted,  and  away  we 
went  for  a  bridge  several  miles  up  the 
stream.  Maybe  it  was  not  the  same 
old  mule  which  about  a  year  afterwards 
laid  down  and  died  suddenly,  some  eight 
miles  from  our  terminal  point,  Cahaba. 
Slinging  saddle,  bridle,  and  mail  bag 
over  my  shoulder,  the  balance  of  the 
trip  was  made  on  foot  and  the  mail  de- 

23 


livered  on  time.  When  next  pay  day 
came  around,  the  old  contractor  placed 
his  own  value  on  the  mule  and  took  same 
out  of  my  wages.  My  Job  was  thrown 
up  immediately  and  suit  commenced  for 
the  amount  due,  but  tiring  of  the  law's 
delay,  the  case  was  allowed  to  lapse, 
and  the  wretch  allowed  the  comfort  of 
having  beaten  a  boy  out  of  hard  earned 
wages.  Doubtless  he  has  long  since 
passed  to  the  beyond.  He  was  outward- 
ly a  devout  and  sanctimonious  man;  if 
one  were  sure  he  is  now  enjoying  a 
state  of  heavenly  bliss,  it  would  more 
than  justify  a  belief  in  universal  salva- 
tion. 

BECOMES  A  PRINTER. 

My  next  work  was  an  apprentice  in 
a  printing  office — a  fine  school  for  a 
boy  with  an  ambition  to  learn.  Those 
capable  of  judging  soon  began  to  cred- 
it me  with  quick,  accurate  work.  'Twas 
a  misfortune  perhaps,  and  entailed  fol- 
lowing hardships  to  have  an  early  am- 
bition for  something  beyond — com- 
menced "reading  medicine" — generally 

24 


in  hours  stolen  from  sleep    or   out-door 
exercise  and  sunshine. 

MEXICAN  WAR. 

When  the  war  with  Mexico  com- 
menced, brothers  William  and  Richard 
went  as  volunteers,  the  latter  on  a  very 
short  enlistment,  and  afterwards  wrote 
he  had  declined  further  service  in  the 
ranks,  having  secured  employment  more 
lucrative  in  the  quartermaster's  employ- 
ment. Although  not  exactly  fair  thus 
to  leave  the  old  folks  alone  with  a  num- 
ber of  younger  children,  I  left  for  Mem- 
phis, Tenn.,  soon  after  the  other  boys 
went  to  Mexico  and  matriculated  as  a 
student  in  a  medical  college. 

I  paid  my  way  by  working  between 
times  in  a  printing  office.  There  I  re- 
mained for  two  years  and  made  fine 
progress.  I  was  still  under  age,  and 
on  some  account  I  concluded  there  would 
be  but  little  honor  in  attaining  a  de- 
gree from  that  school,  so  I  determined 
for  a  time  to  suspend  further  efforts 
in  that  direction.  I  was  growing  up 
thin   and   cadaverous   looking,    longing 

25 


for  out-door  life,  so  I  left  Memphis  with 
a  view  of  joining  brother  Richard  on  the 
Rio  Grande  frontier.  Upon  my  arrival 
at  New  Orleans,  May  1848,  peace  was 
declared  with  Mexico.  Concluding  that 
our  brothers  and  all  other  American 
troops  would  come  home  soon,  I  return- 
ed to  our  home  in  Camden.  William 
came  before  a  great  while,  but  Richard 
wrote  he  had  joined  a  Major  Graham's 
party  soon  to  leave  the  Rio  Grande 
frontier  to  take  possession  of  this 
recently  acquired  territory,  California, 
as  a  part  of  the  rich  spoils  of  war.  Up- 
on learning  this,  my  purpose  was  at  once 
declared  to  join  him  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble, though  having  next  to  nothing  finan- 
cially to  go  on.  This  was  before  the 
finding  of  gold  there  had  been  an- 
nounced to  us.  A  man,  Kilpatrick  by 
name,  from  Clark  county,  had  been 
quite  sick  in  Camden,  under  treatment 
of  Dr.  Bryant.  More  as  a  nurse  than  a 
half-baked  doctor,  he  had  been  cared  for 
by  me  also,  for  which  there  was  quite  a 
sum  due.  Announcing  to  him  my  pur- 
pose, and  asking  payment  for  amount 
due,  he,  like  others,  was  shocked  at  so 

26 


desperate  an  undertaking,  but  said  my 
claim  would  be  paid  as  soon  as  he  could 
obtain  money  from  home.  This  emer- 
gency was  soon  bridged  over  by  his  giv- 
ing me  a  check  on  his  folks  for  the 
amount. 

STARTS  ON   HIS  WANDERINGS. 

So  I  packed  my  belongings  into  a  pair 
of  old  saddle-bags,  which  was  sent  down 
the  river  to  Mobile.  I  collected  eveiy 
cent  due  me  in  Camden  and  struck  out 
across  country  for  Kilpatrick's  home  in 
Clark  county  on  foot.  In  those  days  it 
was  rare  to  see  a  decent  appearing  white 
chap  thus  traveling.  White  folks  looked 
askance  and  suspicious,  and  the  darkies 
wondered.  It  was  a  comfort  to  hear  a 
darky  say  to  her  companions :  "  Yander 
boy  haint  no  po'  white  trash."  She 
didn't  know  how  scantily  filled  was  my 
purse. 

The  Kilpatricks  treated  me  like  a 
prince,  paid  me  liberally  for  services 
to  afflicted  relative,  urged  me  to  stay 
with  them  longer,  and  bade  me  God- 
speed in  my     desperate     undertaking. 

27 


Resuming  my  tramp,  it  was  not  far  to 
the  Tombigbee,  where  a  steamboat 
picked  me  up  and  in  due  time  landed  me 
in  Mobile,  where  my  first  care  was  to 
hunt  up  my  old  saddle-bags.  I  forgot 
to  pay  the  consignee,  who  perhaps 
thought  me  a  rich  planter's  son,  whose 
cotton  crop  he  hoped  to  handle  later  on. 

THE  GOLD  EXCITEMENT. 

By  this  time  the  great  gold  discover- 
ies were  known  the  world  over.  At  New 
Orleans  I  saw  a  circular  sent  out  from 
Fort  Smith,  Ark.,  "Ho,  for  California 
Gold  Mines!"  It  went  on  to  say  that  an 
expedition  was  fitting  out  at  that  point, 
soon  to  start  overland.  After  some  mis- 
takes enroute,  I  reached  Ft.  Smith,  per- 
haps in  Oct.  1848,  to  be  informed  that 
the  expedition  was  only  in  its  incipiency, 
not  to  leave  there  until  the  following 
spring,  which  was  just  as  well  for  me, 
as  most  of  my  scanty  funds  had  been 
used  up.  I  was  fortunate  indeed  in 
finding  work.  I  was  never  idle  a  day,  so 
that  within  six  months,  I  accumulated 
quite  a  little  sum.    I  suppose  I  had  the 

28 


appearance  of  being  an  undersized  coun- 
try boy ;  but  everybody  soon  saw  a  quick 
willingness  to  do  diligently  any  task 
given  me.  'Twas  soon  my  good  fortune 
to  fall  in  with  John  F.  Wheeler,  an  old 
Georgian,  who  had  married  a  Cherokee 
— an  intelligent,  educated  woman.  They 
had  a  number  of  children,  mostly  girls, 
all  well  behaved.  He  owned  the  Fort 
Smith  Herald,  put  me  to  work,  took  me 
into  his  family,  a  delightful,  cheerful 
home.  When  spring  opened,  mostly 
through  him,  terms  were  made  for  my 
transportation  with  dear  old  Charley 
Hudspeth,  who  showed  the  affection  of 
a  father  for  his  son. 

STARTS   FOR    THE    FAR    WEST. 

We  left  Fort  Smith  April  12th,  1849, 
traveled  westerly  up  the  Canadian  river 
through  the  territory  of  the  Choctaws 
and  other  of  those  friendly  tribes,  who 
had  been  moved  from  Georgia,  Alabama 
and  other  Southern  States.  Thence  our 
route  of  travel  was  westerly  up  that 
river  through  the  present  territory  of 
Oklahoma,  up  onto  broad  open  plains  to 

29 


Sante  Fe,  Albuquerque,  thence  down  the 
Rio  Grande  to  near  El  Paso,  thence  to 
Tucson,  to  the  Pimo  villages,  down  the 
Gila  to  the  Colorado,  where  Fort  Yuma 
now  is,  thence  across  the  Great  Ameri- 
can Desert,  and  so  through  arable  Cali- 
fornia to  Los  Angeles,  to  San  Pedro, 
thence  by  Barque  Hector,  by  sea,  to  San 
Francisco. 

Some  little  distance  from  Ft.  Smith, 
our  route  of  travel  was  mostly  through 
low  valley  lands  with  a  number  of 
rather  large  streams,  with  considerable 
rain,  hence  our  progress  was  rather 
slow.  After  going  about  150  miles,  my 
leg  became  seriously  injured  from  a 
horse  floundering  in  the  mud.  This  in- 
jury in  such  surroundings  grew  rapid- 
ly more  serious.  Two  reputable  medical 
men  in  the  train  gave  me  kind  treat- 
ment and  rather  gloomy  prognostica- 
tions, hinting  at  the  possibilities  of  am- 
putation. Though  they  knew  no  more 
than  this  half-baked  doctor,  everything 
tended  to  make  me  despondent. 

Just  then  a  young  man,  whose  wealthy 
father  lived  in  Ft.  Smith,  and  who  knew 
of  the  friendship  of  old  John  Wheeler 

30 


and  family  for  me,  said:  "Young  fel- 
low, you  are  in  a  bad  fix.  You  had 
better  return  and  let  those  Wheeler  girls 
and  their  mother  take  care  of  you  and 
you'll  soon  be  as  good  as  new — don't 
say  you  can't  stand  the  trip — you  can 
ride  horse-back.  There  is  one  of  my 
best  horses,  saddle,  bridle  and  lariat; 
take  them  and  deliver  them  to  my  father 
at  Ft.  Smith."  Others  thought  well  of 
this  scheme,  which  rekindled  a  tender 
feeling  for  one  of  the  half-breed  Chero- 
kee girls  and  made  me  feel  homesick. 
So  it  did  not  take  much  persuasion  to 
start  me  on  the  back  out  trip,  dear  old 
Charlie  Hudspeth  having  refunded  all 
I  had  paid  him. 

Soon  afterwards  I  was  taken  in  for 
the  night  by  a  Choctaw  family.  Though 
full  blooded  Indians,  they  were  intelli- 
gent, well-to-do  people,  who  treated  me 
with  royal  hospitality.  I  made  myself 
solid  with  them  by  saying  my  people 
knew  their's  well  and  were  always  on 
friendly  terms  with  them  before  remov- 
al from  Southern  States.  When  they 
were  told  of  my  having  lived  with  the 
Wheeler  family,  though  the  latter  were 

31 


Cherokees,  they  made  me  feel  very  much 
at  home.  There  was  a  continuous  rain 
and  they  prevailed  on  me  to  remain  un- 
til its  subsidence — which  was  not  for 
several  days — and  had  the  effect  to  over- 
flow a  large  stream  nearby.  Remember- 
ing some  of  my  bad  luck  in  high  water 
when  a  mail  carrier,  I  determined  not 
to  take  any  chances  now — happy  indeed 
in  having  so  good  a  stopping  place. 
Cleanliness  and  rest  worked  wonders  in 
my  injured  leg  within  the  few  days 
thus  waterbound. 

NEW  ACQUAINTANCES. 

There  came  along  a  pack  train  bound 
for  California  and  camped  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  stream.  Tired  wait- 
ing the  subsidence  of  the  flood  they 
hired  the  Indians  to  help  them  across. 
The  Indians  constructed  a  rude  raft, 
on  which  the  trappings  and  cargoes  of 
the  mules  and  their  owners  were  placed 
and  drawn  with  ropes  across.  The  In- 
dians, almost  naked,  were  in  the  water 
steering  the  mules  across — doing  the 
job  in  splendid  way. 

32 


This  pack  train  turned  out  to  be  a 
part  of  a  large  wagon  train,  several  days 
in  advance  of  them,  whom,  from  the  de- 
scription, I  knew  were  traveling  near 
my  old  party.  When  it  came  to  paying 
the  Indians  for  their  arduous  ferry  job, 
the  packers  did  not  have  ready  money 
enough  and,  like  so  many  others  when 
dealing  with  Indians,  did  not  know  the 
importance  of  being  civil.  The  Indians 
were  very  indignant  and  did  not  be- 
lieve that  they  were  short  of  the  ready. 
Things  began  to  look  serious. 

ANOTHER  START  WEST. 

My  own  physical  condition  was 
changing  so  rapidly  for  the  better,  my 
old  enthusiasm  for  the  westward  trip 
only  required  a  little  to  change  my 
course  in  that  direction;  so,  to  relieve 
these  fellows  of  their  dilemma,  I  offered 
to  advance  the  balance  due  the  Indians 
and  go  along  with  them  until  we  over- 
took their  wagon  train,  when  the 
amount  due  me  should  be  refunded. 
This  was  readily  agreed  to  and  the 
Indians'  claim  amicably  adjusted.     The 

33 


family  with  whom  I  had  been  stopping 
would  accept  no  compensation  for  their 
kindness  to  me,  so  I  bade  them  an  af- 
fectionate adieu  and  departed. 

In  due  time,  traveling  with  the  pack- 
ers, we  overtook  their  wagon  train ;  the 
amount  due  me  was  promptly  repaid. 
My  own  old  party  was  reported  several 
days  ahead.  We  were  then  beyond  low, 
swampy  land,  onto  broad,  open  plains 
on  the  border  of  the  Kiowas,  Coman- 
ches,  and  other  warlike  tribes  of  In- 
dians. We  were  at  a  point  where  most 
of  the  teams  had  crossed  from  the 
South  to  the  North  side  of  the  Cana- 
dian river. 

STRIKES  OUT  ALL  ALONE. 

I  chose  to  follow  the  track  of  the 
lesser  number,  who  continued  up  on  the 
southerly  side  of  that  great  stream.  I 
passed  a  number  of  detached  small  par- 
ties, but  soon  found  myself  beyond  all 
in  sight,  and  alone  on  broad,  treeless 
plains,  with  now  and  then  a  clump  of 
willows  or  a  lone  cotton  tree,  showing 
where  the  river  was.    Thus  passed  two 

34 


anxious  days.  During  the  afternoon  of 
the  third  day,  several  shallow  ponds  of 
water  were  crossed,  some  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  in  extent,  but  only  a  few  inche3 
deep. 

A  little  after  dark,  I  found  quite  a 
beaten  track,  showing  a  large  number 
of  wagons  had  recently  passed;  felt 
somewhat  relieved,  hoping  soon  to  fall 
in  with  some  one. 

A  PLUNGE  IN  THE  OVERFLOW. 

Perhaps  about  nine  o'clock,  I  came  to 
a  body  of  water,  which  I  mistook  for 
another  shallow  pond,  such  as  had  been 
previously  encountered,  but  in  a  little 
time  I  was  in  swimming  water,  in  a 
strong,  rapid  current.  The  horse,  as 
badly  panic  stricken  as  the  rider,  could 
not,  or  would  not  swim  and  was  soon 
rolling  down  the  current  like  a  barrel. 
For  some  time  I  could  not  detach  my 
feet  from  the  little  yankee  stirrup?. 
When  released,  I  swam  until  able  to 
stand  a  moment  with  head  above  water. 

The  horse  was  out  in  the  current  and 
neighed  pitifully  for  help.     Swimming 

35 


out  to  him  and  catching  the  bridle,  we 
successfully  landed  on  the  same  side  we 
started  in.  Although  it  was  a  cool  eve- 
ning, instead  of  having  my  only  coat  on, 
it  hung  carelessly  on  the  horn  of  the 
saddle,  and  my  Alabama  saddle  bags 
and  a  pair  of  blankets  were  thrown 
loosely  across  the  saddle  with  some  pro- 
visions. All  these  floated  down  the  riv- 
er. With  the  lariat,  which  had  fortun- 
ately been  saved,  the  horse  was  picketed 
on  the  leeside  of  a  bunch  of  willows. 
Covered  with  the  wet  saddle  blanket,  he 
fared  fairly  well  in  the  luxuriant  grass. 
To  save  myself  from  freezing,  I  cut  with 
mY  big  jack-knife  a  lot  of  willow  twigs, 
and  piled  them  in  a  heap.  Wiggling 
myself  into  the  center  of  this,  I  found 
a  perfect  shield  from  the  raw  wind  and 
never  had  a  more  comfortable,  sound 
sleep  all  night. 

I  was  disgusted  with  myself  in  the 
morning  to  discover  this  was  the  cross- 
ing place  of  the  Canadian  river  of  the 
emigrants  who  had  been  traveling  up 
the  North  side  and  that  when  striking 
their  road  the  night  before,  'twas  my 
fate  to  take   the   wrong  end   and  was 

36 


on  the  back  track  to  Fort  Smith,  when 
entering  the  river. 

FELL  IN  WITH  THE  MILITARY. 

I  resumed  a  westerly  course  next 
morning-.  After  traveling  all  day,  badly 
scared  by  plenty  of  signs  of  hostile  In- 
dians, was  overjoyed  to  see  friendly 
camp-fires  ahead,  which  proved  to  be 
a  military  escort  which  accompanied  us 
to  Santa  Fe.  They  treated  me  hospit- 
ably, after  hearing  my  tale  of  woe.  Up 
to  the  time  I  got  into  the  river,  although 
I  had  some  provisions,  I  had  no  relish 
for  them,  owing,  I  suppose,  to  my  fear 
of  Indians,  and  the  uncertainty  about 
the  route  of  travel.  I  was  well  prepared 
now  to  fill  up  with  the  ample  lay-out 
presented  by  my  military  entertainers. 
The  incident  was  mentioned  in  their  re- 
port to  the  Government  of  Captain  Mer- 
cey's  Santa  Fe  expedition  from  Fort 
Smith    Spring  of  1849. 

STRIKES  HANDS  WITH  OLD  FRIENDS. 

I  rejoined  my  old  party  the  next  af- 
37 


ternoon;  was  received  with  surprise  and 
great  enthusiasm.  The  horse  and  out- 
fit was  returned  to  his  owner  and  dear 
old  Charlie  Hudspeth  treated  me  as  a 
returned  lost  son,  sound  and  well  every 
way,  and  fully  reinstated  me  as  one  of 
the  party.  I  was  a  general  chore  boy, 
looking  up  camping  sites,  starting  fires, 
procuring  wood  and  water,  driving 
team,  or  looking  out  for  stock;  most  of 
the  time  traveled  on  foot.  While  a  mail 
carrier,  I  had  learned  to  ride  and  stay 
on  most  any  kind  of  a  "critter."  So 
while  enroute,  I  rode  everything  placed 
in  my  charge,  steer,  cow,  mule  or  bron- 
co, thus  I  had  many  a  lift  when  tired  of 
tramping. 

We  passed  through  safely  the  many 
warlike  tribes  before  reaching  New 
Mexico.  By  the  time  we  reached  Santa 
Fe,  we  realized  it  would  take  a  much 
longer  time  to  make  the  trip  clear  across 
than  at  first  anticipated  and  that  pro- 
visions would  be  short. 

FOOD  SCARCE. 

We  were  disappointed,  too,  in  not  be- 

38 


ing  able  to  replenish  by  purchase  from 
the  Mexicans — only  in  stinted  quanti- 
ties. We  were  disappointed  also  in 
seeing  but  few  buffaloes,  from  which 
source  we  had  expected  to  get  all  the 
additional  meat  we  might  require.  At 
that  time  there  were  still  millions  roam- 
ing the  plains.  Their  habit  was  to  start 
from  Canada  at  the  approach  of  winter, 
feeding  Southward,  wintering  in  North- 
ern Texas,  Mexico  and  Indian  Territory, 
starting  Northward,  as  spring  ap- 
proached, back  to  their  Northern  feed- 
ing grounds. 

In  traveling  down  the  Great  Rio 
Grande  Valley,  a  very  rich  coun- 
try from  Albuquerque  to  near  El 
Paso,  we  were  some  times  able 
to  buy  beans.  Further  on  we 
found  an  abundance  of  muskeet — a 
wild  locust  which  bore  a  sort  of  bean, 
fine  food  for  man  or  beast.  But  we  had 
to  live  on  restricted  rations  for  a  long 
time.  It  ivas  an  unwritten  law  that 
women  and  children  shoidd  eat  all  they 
wanted.  Being  a  stunted,  undersized 
boy,  just  taking  on  new  growth,  conse- 
quently requiring  more  than  a  fully  de- 


veloped  man,  it  was  a  particular  hard- 
ship not  to  be  let  in  as  a  juvenile  with 
the  women.  All  of  us  soured.  We  grew 
crabbed  and  cross,  forgetting-  what  the 
Good  Book  says :  "A  soft  answer  turn- 
eth  away  wrath."  There  were  bicker- 
ings and  quarrels  and  bloodshed. 

Presuming  on  our  escape  from  Indian 
depredations,  we  began  to  grow  careless. 
After  leaving  the  Rio  Grande  Valley,  we 
camped  one  night  without  water, — dis- 
appointed in  not  reaching  the  Rio  Mim- 
bles.  Next  morning  we  started  early 
without  breakfast.  Nearly  every  one 
on  horse-back  shoved  out  ahead.  Soon 
there  was  a  line  of  timber  in  sight, 
where  we  felt  sure  there  was  water. 
Having  a  small  band  of  cattle  under 
my  charge,  one  of  them  was  mounted, 
and  the  band  crowded  ahead.  In  a  lit- 
tle while  I  was  some  distance  ahead  of 
the  train  of  wagons  when,  as  if  spring- 
ing out  of  the  ground,  three  Apache  In- 
dians, splendidly  mounted,  confronted 
me. 


40 


ALONE    CONFRONTED   BY   INDIANS. 

My  feelings  might  have  found  utter- 
ance as  follows :  "Well,  boy,  there  is 
one  chance  in  a  thousand  for  you  to 
get  out  of  this  alive — that  one  chance 
consists  in  concealing  from  them  that 
you  are  scared  nearly  to  death."  Hav- 
ing picked  up  considerable  Spanish  dur- 
ing the  short  contact  with  the  Mexicans, 
which  the  border  tribes  all  speak  fluent- 
ly, they  were  invited  to  go  into  camp 
with  me.  that  we  had  some  nice  presents 
for  them,  naming  such  things  as  were 
thought  most  acceptable  to  them.  In 
the  meantime  I  had  dismounted  from 
my  steed  and  advanced  to  the  one  sup- 
posed to  be  the  leader  and  offered  to 
shake  hands  with  him.  After  a  little 
conversation  with  his  fellows,  he  seized 
my  hand,  not  so  as  to  give  me  pain,  but 
with  a  grip  it  would  have  been  useless 
to  pull  away  from  had  he  willed  it  other- 
wise. Being  right  over  me  on  his  horse, 
he  looked  at  me  so  piercingly  that  the 
effect  was  transmitted  to  the  region  of 
the  stomach,  where  there  was  a  death- 
like chilliness.     My  weight  being    less, 

41 


perhaps,  than  100  pounds,  my  upper- 
most thought  was,  how  easy  for  him  to 
life  me  across  his  saddle  and,  with  his 
comrades,  fly  away  to  the  mountains 
and  have  a  war  dance  while  burning 
me  at  the  stake.  All  this  while  he  was 
telling  how  good  he  thought  me. 

To  my  surprise  the  invitation  was  ac- 
cepted, and  we  took  up  the  line  of  march 
for  camp,  one  of  the  yellow  devils  in 
the  rear  and  one  on  each  side  of  the 
little  band  of  cattle  and  the  badly  scared 
boy  who  kept  jabbering  away,  afraid  to 
stop  lest  his  knees  would  give  way. 
They  acted  on  my  suggestion  to  go  out 
and  get  some  horses  and  mules  and 
bring  them  in,  as  we  wanted  some  and 
would  give  good  prices. 

ALONE  AGAIN. 

Being  left  alone  by  them,  I  was  glad 
to  pile  down  on  the  side  of  the  road  and 
wait  for  the  wagon  train  and  go  to  camp 
with  them.  No  matter  what  their  orig- 
inal purpose,  these  Indians  never  re- 
turned to  our  camp.  Another  and  big- 
ger band  had  just  returned   into  the 

42 


same  mountain  and  doubtless  were  join- 
ed by  my  entertainers  with  a  drove  of 
stock  stolen  from  the  Mexicans;  but  a 
band  of  our  troops  followed  and  recov- 
ered the  stock  after  a  sharp  fight.  These 
border  tribes  had  for  all  time  gone  on 
such  forays  according  to  their  own 
sweet  will  and  got  away  with  the  spoils 
before  the  poor  Mexicans  got  ready  to 
hit  back.  Through  our  late  acquisition 
of  territory,  these  Mexicans  received 
protection  from  our  troops.  This  the 
Indians  resented,  regarding  the  border 
settlements  as  their  special  preserves, 
the  engagement  referred  to  being  the 
commencement  of  an  interminable  war. 
Our  party  escaped  without  trouble,  but 
those  behind  us  and  poor  Mexicans  by 
the  score  were  destroyed  before  the  al- 
most annihilation  of  all  these  border 
tribes. 

REACHES  CALIFORNIA. 

After  considerable  privation,  we  fin- 
ally reached  California  by  crossing  the 
Colorado  river,  where  Fort  Yuma  now 
is,  into  the     Great    American     Desert, 

43 


where  we  found  things  more  tolerable 
than  anticipated.  A  large  area  of  the 
so-called  desert  is  far  below  the  sea-lev- 
el and  there  had  been  a  vast  inflow  of 
fresh  water  the  past  season  from  the 
great  Colorado  river.  A  rank  growth 
of  green  grass  and  other  vegetation 
awaited  our  coming  and  deep  pools  fur- 
nished an  abundance  of  pure,  cool  water. 
We  at  last  reached  settlements  where 
we  could  replenish  our  stores  and  where 
there  was  plenty  of  game. 

LOST  HIS  OXEN. 

Soon  after  reaching  the  first  settle- 
ment, a  loose  yoke  of  oxen  was  lost 
through  my  carelessness  and  I  stopped 
behind  to  hunt  them.  I  found  them  af- 
ter looking  thirty-six  hours,  just  at  dark 
the  second  night,  and  started  with  them, 
on  foot,  to  overtake  my  party.  I  had 
nothing  to  eat  during  the  time,  traveled 
all  night,  and  next  morning  at  eight 
o'clock  met  two  of  my  comrades  starting 
back  to  hunt  me.  They  had  killed  a  fine, 
fat  deer,  and  had  a  four  quart  bucket 
full  of  stewed  venison  with  dumplings 

44 


made  of  unbolted  flour,  a  repast  fit  to 
set  before  a  king.  That  layout  was  set 
before  me  and  the  void  from  a  forty- 
eight  hours'  fast  was  soon  filled.  The 
boys  stared  at  the  almost  empty  pail, 
being  told  'twas  the  first  eaten  since 
we  parted  two  days  before. 

IN  GOD'S  COUNTRY  AT  LAST. 

One  was  justified  in  feeling,  under  the 
circumstances,  that  at  last  he  had  found 
"God's  Country." 

We  now  leisurely  moved  along  and 
reached  Los  Angeles  in  due  time,  where 
our  party  broke  up.  Some  sold  off  their 
stock;  others  drove  on,  or  packed 
through  to  the  southern  gold  fields; 
others  took  shipping  for  San  Francisco. 
Having  nothing  to  go  farther  on,  it  was 
necessary  for  me  to  find  work.  My  em- 
ployer was  old  Abel  Stearnes,  an  old 
settler,  a  Scotchman,  who  had  married 
into  a  noble  Castilian  family.  He  was 
well-to-do,  a  merchant.  When  asked 
what  I  could  do,  I  replied :  "0,  any- 
thing." "Which  means  you  are  trained 
to  nothing!"  was  his  reply.       I     said: 

45 


"Not  exactly,  I  am  a  doctor."  With  a 
grunt  he  mumbled  out  "You  are  a  h — 
of  a  looking  doctor!" 

GOT  A  JOB. 

Agreeing  with  him  on  that  proposi- 
tion, I  replied :  "Well,  I  don't  expect  to 
doctor  you,  but  surely  you  can  use  me 
some  way  to  your  benefit  and  to  mine." 
After  thus  tantalizing  me  and  taking  my 
measure,  he  called  a  peon,  whom  I  found 
to  be  an  easy  boss,  and  I  was  placed 
beside  himself  digging  and  shoveling, 
took  his  gait,  which  was  much  more 
easy  than  the  Southern  darkey.  Later 
on  the  old  man  came  out  and  said: 
"Come  in  now,  we  are  going  to  have 
dinner."  This  first  invitation  for  a 
square  meal  within  six  months  was  em- 
barrassing. In  my  thread-bare,  un- 
kempt condition,  I  felt  myself  unfit  to 
dine  with  an  elegant  family.  The  old 
Don  took  in  the  situation  and  walked 
away,  to  reappear  after  perhaps  an 
hour,  renewing  his  invitation,  as  I  sup- 
posed, to  dine  with  the  servants;  but 
there  was  a  retinue  of  them  to  wait  on 

46 


me,  no  one  else  at  the  table.  'Twas  a 
magnificent  spread,  fit  to  set  before  roy- 
alty. Knowing  very  little  about  liquor 
of  any  sort,  I  did  not  understand  the 
Don,  when  he  said  in  setting  a  well- 
filled  decanter  before  me:  "Here  is 
some  fin^  old  dry  Sherry;  help  yourself, 
it  won't  hurt  you."  To  verify  his  last 
assertion,  he  poured  out  a  goblet  full 
and  tossed  it  down,  smacked  his  lips, 
then  poured  out  another  for  me,  which 
was  disposed  of  as  per  his  request,  to 
discover  that  there  was  nothing  dry 
about  the  transaction  except  the  half- 
starved  immigrant.  The  servants  were 
amazed,  and  in  a  quiet  way,  had  fun 
among  themselves  to  see  the  amount  of 
provender  absorbed,  washed  down  by 
the  dry  liquid  condiment.  The  wit  of 
their  party,  a  bright  Indian  girl,  said 
in  Spanish :  "He  is  little  and  long  with 
big  room  inside."  They  had  their  own 
fun,  assuming  my  ignorance  of  the 
language,  as  they  spoke  in  Spanisn. 
This  was  the  commencement  of  a  pleas- 
ant stay  with  the  family,  as  one  of  them. 
After  a  good  clean-up  and  fresh  rai- 
ment obtained,  I  did  not  shovel  and  pick 

47 


with  the  peon  any  more.  I  was  placed 
apparently  on  waiting  orders  at  fair 
wages  while  apparently  the  old  Don 
sized  me  up.  Later  on  he  was  taken 
aback  when  he  found  that  my  purpose 
was  to  reach  San  Francisco  as  soon  as 
possible.  I  hoped  by  being  there  to  be 
sooner  placed  in  communication  with 
Brother  Richard.  He  then  told  me  he 
had  purposed  placing  me  in  his  large 
mercantile  establishment,  believing  the 
young  immigrant  to  be  a  trustworthy 
and  competent  employe,  he  wanted  me 
to  abandon  all  thought  of  San  Francis- 
co and  the  mines,  by  remaining  with 
him,  as  more  likely  to  trace  our  Brother 
from  that  point.  When  told  that  it  was 
too  late,  that  passage  for  San  Francisco 
had  already  been  secured  on  the  Barque 
Hector,  then  at  San  Pedro,  some  twenty 
miles  from  Los  Angeles,  he  paid  me  lib- 
erally for  my  services,  gave  me  a  fine 
pair  of  Mexican  blankets  and  provisions 
for  the  trip. 

TO  TAKE  SAIL. 

Before  declaring  my  plans  and  pur- 

48 


poses  to  Don  Abel,  I  had  met  in  Los 
Angeles  the  owner  of  the  barque,  who 
offered  to  take  me  up  to  San  Francisco 
on  credit  for  part  or  all  of  the  passage 
money.  At  the  port  of  San  Pedro,  there 
were  so  many  wanting  to  go  that  it  was 
beyond  the  legal  limit.  All  had  to  sign 
papers  securing  the  owner  against  pros- 
ecution for  violating  the  law.  The  own- 
er turned  out  to  be  Capt.  Alex  Bell, 
brother  to  Col.  Minter's  wife,  then  liv- 
ing on  Mush  Creek,  near  Pleasant  Hill, 
in  Alabama. 

HEARS  SAD  TIDINGS. 

In  signing  my  name,  he  asked :  "Are 
you  one  of  the  Alabama  Crump  tons?" 
"Yes,"  was  the  reply.  "Was  Dick  your 
brother?"  "Yes."  "He's  dead,  poor  fel- 
low; died  with  cholera  at  Camargo 
when  about  to  start  with  Major  Gra- 
ham's party  for  the  Coast."  Seeing  my 
distress  and  shock  from  such  intelli- 
gence, he  said:  "Be  of  good  cheer,  my 
dear  boy;  Dick  was  a  noble  friend  to 
me,  I'll  be  a  brother  to  you."  Of  course 
this  was  comforting.  Bell,  besides  clean- 

49 


ing  up  quite  a  lot  of  money  by  his  pas- 
sengers, had  bought  a  lot  of  produce  on 
speculation,  jerked  beef,  dried  grapes 
and  corn  in  the  ear.  Upon  arrival  in 
San  Francisco  and  discharging  the  pas- 
sengers, he  bought  two  corn  shellers, 
the  only  such  machines  on  the  coast,  and 
put  me  to  work  with  others  shelling  the 
corn.  We  did  good  work  and  were  fed 
well,  an  important  item  for  us  who  had 
been  so  long  on  short  rations. 

The  crew  of  the  ship  cleared  out  for 
the  mines.  A  ship  at  anchor  in  port  re- 
quires considerable  work  and  attention 
to  keep  everything  in  shipshape,  woik 
landmen  knew  nothing  about,  but  we 
consented  to  do  as  best  we  knew.  It 
wasn't  long,  however,  before  the  officers 
of  the  ship  got  overbearing  and  abusive. 
"D — n  your  eyes!  Avast  there!"  etc. 
We  struck  and  went  ashore. 

NO  PAY  FOR  SERVICES. 

There  was  quite  a  sum  due  me  be- 
yond payment  of  my  passage  money. 
This  Bell  refused  to  pay,  except  on  con- 
dition that  there  was  a  return  to  the 

50 


ship  and  the  job  finished.  Refusing  to 
do  this,  the  balance  was  lost,  although 
he  promised  to  be  a  brother  by  proxy. 
Others  sued  and  got  their  money.  Three 
others  and  myself  found  a  job  burning 
charcoal  and  chopping  cord  wood  from 
the  scrub  oaks  on  the  adjacent  hills.  I 
remarked  to  my  comrades  that  I  knew 
nothing  about  such  work.  They  said  it 
was  all  right  and  they  would  give  me 
a  full  show  and  do  most  of  the  hard 
work.  It  was  a  standoff,  by  my  cooking 
and  doing  other  camp  duties  and  mark- 
eting our  products.  Thus  we  earned 
enough  to  get  an  outfit  for  the  mines. 

AT  ORO  CITY. 

We  went  on  a  little  sloop  to  Sacra- 
mento and  from  there  up  the  river  to 
where  a  man  had  laid  out  what  he  called 
Oro  City.  He  hired  us  to  clear  out  snags 
and  sawyers,  so  as  to  make  Bear  river 
navigable  down  to  its  mouth  into  the 
Feather  river,  perhaps  two  miles  below. 
He  offered  us  $12.00  a  day  without  keep, 
or  $8.00  a  day  and  keep,  and  a  place 
to  sleep  in  our  blankets.     To  make  a 

51 


dead  sure  thing  we  accepted  the  $8.00 
per  day  and  keep.  The  old  man  had 
a  nice  family,  a  good,  motherly  wife  and 
two  grown  daughters,  who  made  it 
pleasant  for  us.  We  got  along  and  gave 
satisfaction.  We  noticed,  however,  fre- 
quent half  and  sometimes  whole  days 
off  when  we  were  idle.  Notwithstand- 
ing such  loss  of  time,  we  did  not  com- 
plain at  first,  but  grew  restive  and  de- 
termined to  resume  our  tramp  to  the 
mines.  When  coming  to  a  settlement 
we  fell  far  short  of  getting  what  we 
thought  justly  due.  For  Sunday  we 
were  charged  $4.00  for  a  day's  board 
and  the  same  for  each  day  laid  off  dur- 
ing the  week  and  $2.00  for  each  half 
day  that  the  old  fellow  failed  to  fur- 
nish work. 

After  accepting  these  harsh  terms, 
the  wise  guy  of  our  party  vouchsafed 
the  following:  "Well,  old  Rooster,  al- 
though masquerading  as  an  honest  old 
Missouri  farmer,  in  thus  tricking  us 
boys,  had  we  stayed  much  longer,  we'd 
have  been  in  your  debt.  In  this  trans- 
action you  have  out-yanked  the  shrewd- 
est Yankee  we  have  thus  far  met." 


IN   THE   MINES. 

We  struck  the  mines  at  the  mouth  of 
Deer  creek,  where  it  empties  in  the  Yu- 
ba river,  and  worked  along  the  banks, 
finally  settling  in  a  comfortable  camp 
where  the  splendid  little  mountain  city, 
Nevada,  has  since  grown  up.  We  were 
lucky  in  soon  having  good  returns  for 
our  work,  beyond  what  the  Oro  City 
man  had  promised  us,  and  so  continued 
until  the  spring  of  1850.  Then  we  se- 
cured a  promising  layout  on  the  upper 
South  Yuba  river,  perhaps  thirty  miles 
away,  and  commenced  active  operations 
to  turn  the  river  as  soon  as  the  snow 
water  subsided.  Results  were  not  satis- 
factory, blowing  into  the  Yuba  Dam  all 
our  previous  earnings.  I  returned  to 
Sacramento,  lured  thither  by  a  $200.00 
per  month  job  offered  me  on  my  way  up 
to  the  mines. 

But  the  immigration  of  1850  was  ar- 
riving, and  Sacramento  was  full  of  idle 
men,  glad  to  work  on  any  terms  offer- 
ed, so  my  traps  were  shouldered  for  a 
start  back  for  the  mines,  where  a  new 
location  was  made 

53 


AT  ROUGH-AND-READY. 

Met  with  good  success  during  the  fol- 
lowing winter,  in  the  spring  of  1851 
another  change  was  made,  to  Auburn, 
then  called  Woods'  Dry  Diggings.  Here 
I  staid  with  good  success  until  the  fall 
of  1853.  I  determined  to  visit  the  old 
folks  at  home  and  to  finish  my  medical 
studies  at  New  Orleans.  Accompanying 
me  was  my  dear  old  mining  partner, 
Torn  Dixon,  of  Marengo  county. 

STARTS    BACK    HOME. 

We  started  from  our  California  home, 
Auburn,  so  as  to  have  several  days  ia 
San  Francisco  before  the  sailing  of  the 
Panama  steamer. 

He  found  a  Dr.  A.  S.  Wright,  who 
advertised  himself  as  "Banker  and  As- 
sayer,"  who  offered  Dix  a  bigger  price 
than  anyone  else  would  give  for  his  gold 
dust,  provided  he  would  take  draft  on 
New  Orleans,  payable  in  sixty  days  af- 
ter sight.  Besides  the  $3,000.00  thus 
disposed  of,  he  had  quite  a  little  reserve, 
which  he  persisted  in  "toting"  on  his 


54 


person — a  source  of  worry  and  nervous 
anxiety,  contributing  to  the  general 
breakdown  that  followed. 

IN  A  WRECK. 

We  left  San  Francisco  in  the  crack 
steamship  Winfield  Scott  with  an  oppo- 
sition steamer  racing  us  from  the  start 
via  Nicarauga.  At  midnight,  the  sec- 
ond day  out,  our  ship  struck  a  rock  and 
sank.  There  was  a  calm  sea  and  plenty 
of  time  to  save  all  hands  and  land  them 
on  an  adjacent  island,  Aracapa,  with 
a  limited  amount  of  provisions,  which 
were  doled  out  stintedly  twice  a  day. 
There  was  rarely  enough  given  out  to 
go  around.  Out  of  500  souls,  perhaps 
as  many  as  twenty-five  would  get  noth- 
ing. Tom  was  nearly  always  one  of  them. 
My  little  allowance  was  always  shared 
with  him.  When  reproved  for  not  rush- 
ing in  with  me  to  secure  his  share,  he 
replied:  "0,  Kiah,  I  don't  like  to 
crowd."  WThen  assured  he  would  have 
to  go  hungry,  as  I  wouldn't  divide  any 
longer,  he  got  a  move  on  him  and  got 
there  with  the  foremost.    There  was  no 


water  on  the  island,  but  the  tanks  of 
fresh  water  on  the  steamer  remained  in- 
tact and  were  brought  on  shore  in  boats. 
One  day,  when  assisting  in  this  work 
and  undertaking  to  help  myself  to  a 
drink,  the  cup  was  knocked  from  my 
lips  by  one  of  the  crew,  who  said:  "Let 
that  water  alone  until  I  tell  you  to  drink, 

you  ."     After  the  fellow  was 

pretty  badly  used  up,  the  cup  was  re- 
filled and  drank  with  gusto,  with  no  fur- 
ther molestation.  One  usually  makes 
friends  when  showing  pluck  to  resent 
such  an  outrage,  and  this  fellow  slunk 
like  a  whipped  cur.  When  the  affray 
was  over,  Dick  was  hard  by  gritting  his 
teeth,  with  fists  doubled  up,  just  ready 
for  war. 

ON    TO    PANAMA. 

After  a  ten  days  stay,  we  sailed  pleas- 
antly to  Panama.  We  had  hard  expe- 
riences in  crossing  the  Isthmus.  The 
railroad  had  been  completed  but  a  few 
miles  at  its  eastern  terminus.  As  a  large 
number  of  our  comrades  had  determined 
to  cross  on  foot,  instead  of  paying  a 

56 


fabulous  price  for  mule  hire,  we  determ- 
ined to  be   of  the  number.     Much  of 
my  stuff  was  thrown  away  to  make  my 
pack  as  light  as  possible,  but  Dick  was 
in  love  with  all  he  had,  which  he  wanted 
to  take  home  as  souvenirs,  besides  the 
gold  dust  strapped  to  his  person.    With 
his  heavy  load,  he  soon  began  to  lag; 
first  one  article  and  then  another  was 
transferred  from  his  shoulders  to  mine. 
He  was  almost  heart  broken  when  we 
were  forced  to  lighten  cargo  from  time 
to  time,  abandoning  different  things  on 
the  march,  in  order  to  keep   up   with 
our  comrades.    Upon  my  releasing  him 
from  his  incubus  of  gold  dust,  he  step- 
ped rather  spryly  for  a  time.     I  kept 
him  in  front  and  pushed     him     along, 
bullied  and  scared  him  by  fear  of  rob- 
bers, who  we  heard  of  attacking,     rob- 
bing and  some     times     killing    others. 
Poor  fellow,  iH  was  used  up    and    col- 
lapsed upon  reaching  the  steamer.     He 
was   abed   most  of  the  time   until   we 
reached  New  Orleans. 


57 


IN  NEW  ORLEANS. 

Upon  presentation  of  his  $3,000.00 
check,  not  on  a  bank,  but  on  a  respecta- 
ble mercantile  house,  we  were  told  that 
they  knew  nothing  of  the  San  Francisco 
Banker  and  Assayer.  As  the  check 
was  not  due  for  sixty  days,  they  ex- 
plained the  funds  might  be  received  with 
which  to  pay  it. 

We  passed  over  to  Mobile  after  Dick 
rested  a  few  days,  where,  fortunately, 
we  found  an  old  friend  of  his.  It  was 
a  great  relief  to  me,  as  poor  Dick 
had  been  a  burden.  Besides  the 
terrible  ordeal  of  other  vicissitudes 
through  which  we  had  just  passed, 
was  the  worry  of  the  probable  loss  of 
his  $3,000.00  cheap-john  check.  He  was 
in  a  state  of  mental  as  well  as  physical 
collapse.  As  soon  as  able  to  travel,  his 
friends  kindly  escorted  ^ixon  to  his 
home,  up  the  Tombigbel?  to  Demopolis. 

FINDS  HIS  BROTHER. 

I  found  brother  William  in  Mobile, 
where  he  had  a  fine  position  in  business 
and  stood  well  socially. 


A  returned  successful  California*! 
was  something  of  a  show,  a  rather  an- 
noying feature  of  my  stay  in  Mobile, 
which  prompted  an  early  exit  for  Cam- 
den and  out  to  Pine  Apple  where  our 
people  lived.  After  a  nice  visit,  find- 
ing the  old  folks  up  in  pretty  good 
shape,  I  started  for  New  Orleans,  with 
a  view  of  resuming  my  medical  stud- 
ies. Upon  my  arrival  at  Mobile,  I  found 
poor  brother  William  down  with  pneu- 
monia. 

DETAINED    IN    MOBILE. 

Although  under  the  care  of  two  of 
the  most  eminent  doctors  of  that  city, 
my  trip  to  New  Orleans  was  abandoned 
to  remain  with  him  as  nurse.  After  a 
long  siege  they  gave  him  up  as  beyond 
recovery.  This  being  known,  brought 
what  was  intended  as  a  farewell  greet- 
ing from  a  host  of  old  friends  who  com- 
forted him  on  his  being  resigned  and 
prepared  for  the  change.  Although  hav- 
ing little  hope  myself,  I  tried  to  dispel 
from  his  mind  the  idea  that  a  fatal  end- 


59 


mg  was  inevitable,  and  partially  suc- 
ceeded. Although  they  abandoned  the 
case,  the  doctors  were  asked  to  give  him 
a  little  champagne.  They  flippantly  re- 
sponded :  "Give  him  all  he  wants."  Two 
quart  bottles  were  obtained  and  the  poor 
fellow  smacked  his  lips  after  having  a 
small  wine  glass  full.  This  I  kept  up 
every  hour.  The  effect  was  marvelous. 
He  was  so  revived  that  I  felt  justified  m 
leaving  him  to  take  a  little  rest  and 
sleep,  after  stupidly  repeating  the  Doc- 
tor's words :  "give  him  all  he  wants,"  to 
those  left  in  charge.  They  had  seen 
the  cautious  small  doses  given  and  at 
intervals  of  an  hour.  After  more  than 
an  hour's  refreshing  slumber,  I  found 
the  poor  fellow  in  great  distress,  retch- 
ing and  vomiting,  hovering  near  life's 
end.  After  being  snatched  from  the 
jaws  of  death  by  the  judicious  use  of 
an  agent,  he  was  almost  gone  by  the  in- 
judcious  overdosing  with  the  same. 

Though  no  more  than  an  inexperi- 
enced, half-baked  doctor,  no  other  was 
called  and  no  more  chances  taken  of  his 
being  killed  through  kindness,  not  to 
say  innate  stupidity.  After  this  episode, 

60 


the  invalid  progressed  rapidly  to  full  re- 
covery and  we  went  to  Camden  within 
a  month;  there  he  was  s3on  fully  re- 
stored. He  abandoned  a  fine  position 
and  prospects  in  Mobile  and  remained 
in  Wilcox  and  in  the  fall  was  elected  to 
office  by  the  largest  majority  ever  giv- 
en in  the  county.  In  this  position,  he 
was  exposed  a  good  deal  to  vicissitudes 
of  weather  and  in  time  had  another  at- 
tack of  pneumonia,  which  took  him  off 
— a  noble,  true  man. 

Business    complications    of    my    old 
friend  Dixon  demanded 

IMMEDIATE  ATTENTION  IN  CALIFORNIA, 

and  he  prevailed  on  me  to  return  and 
act  as  his  agent.  The  poor  fellow  turn- 
ed the  collection  of  his  $3,000.00  pro- 
tested check  over  to  me,  as  business 
agent,  whose  knowledge  of  business  was 
almost  as  limited  as  his  own.  I  was  for- 
tunate, however,  in  seeking  assitance  in 
proper  quarters.  The  check,  having 
been  presented  when  due,  but  not  paid, 
went  to  protest.  Upon  calling  at  the 
New  Orleans  house  on  my  way  to  Caii- 

61 


fornia  they  predicted  Wright  would  not 
be  found  on  my  arrival. 

Added  to  the  wear  and  tear  of  nurs- 
ing brother  William  and  other,  perhaps, 
unnecessary  exposures,  after  two  weeks 
stay  on  the  Isthmus,  I  was  attacked  with 
Panama  fever  before  the  steamer  reach- 
ed Acapulco;  but  in  cooler  weather,  by 
the  time  we  had  reached  San  Francis- 
co, I  was  in  fairly  good  shape.  Upon 
my  arrival,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
be  placed  in  contact  with  two  of  the 
biggest  banking  houses  in  town,  who, 
after  some  fun  with  me,  as  the  victim 
of  the  agent,  gave  me  all  the  aid  possi- 
ble in  recovering  the  money.  Old  Wright 
was  badly  scared  and  humiliated  at  the 
exposure,  which  came  sooner  than  he 
anticipated.  He  filibustered,  quibbled, 
said  he  had  forwarded  the  money  and 
knew  it  had  been  paid  at  the  other  end 
of  the  line,  but  he  was  outgeneraled  on 
every  turn  and  finally  refunded  every 
dollar,  which,  less  a  small  sum  for  inci- 
dentals, was  sent  to  Dixon  in  a  check 
on  a  Mobile  bank.  Within  a  short  time, 
Wright  and  the  old  bankers  who  helped 
hold  him  up,  all  went  to  the  wall. 

62 


BACK   TO   THE    MINES   AGAIN. 

After  getting  the  Dixon  matter  set- 
tled, I  left  San  Francisco  for  my  old 
haunts  in  the  mines  at  Auburn.  Net 
a  great  while  afterwards,  heard  from  a 
dear  old  mining  partner,  who  some  time 
previous  left  for  the  north,  when  I  left 
Rough-and-Ready  for  Auburn.  He 
wrote  me  he  had  a  valuable  discovery 
at  what  is  now  Yreka,  near  the  Oregon 
line,  requesting  me  to  join  and  share 
with  him  all  there  was  in  it.  Usually 
rather  reserved  about  exposing  my 
plans  for  the  future,  my  intended  pros- 
pects to  join  Tom  Ward  got  to  be  known 
among  others,  by  an  enterprising  thief, 
who  went  through  my  effects  one  night 
and  stole  most  of  my  ready  means  on 
the  eve  of  my  departure.  With  plenty 
of  help,  he  was  captured  and  my  money 
recovered.  The  necessary  law's  delay 
to  appear  against  him  knocked  out  my 
contemplated  trip.  The  fellow  was 
finally  tried,  convicted,  and  served  a 
term  in  the  penitentiary.  While  wait- 
ing for  this,  I  bought  into  the  old 
Rough-and-Ready  mine  at  Forest  Hill, 

63 


first  one  share,  one-eighth  interest — had 
but  little  to  do  with  it,  but,  as  others 
got  discouraged,  secured  additional  in- 
terests, struggled  hard,  lived  stintedly, 
and  when  at  last  the  mine  began  +o 
yield  fair  returns,  owned  five-eighths  in- 
terst.  I  closed  out  in  five  years  with 
more  money  than  sense,  and 

RETURNED  TO  ALABAMA, 

purposing  to  first  finish  my  studies  in 
medicine,  then  to  buy  a  plantation  and 
the  darkies  thereon.  My  original  pur- 
pose was  to  enter  Tulane  University, 
New  Orleans,  but  the  Medical  Depart- 
ment of  the  State  University  in  Mobile 
was  chosen.  Scores  of  people  knew  me 
and  I  was  soon  a  social  lion,  a  bad  pre- 
dicament for  a  student  anxious  to  cram 
and  learn  all  possible  in  a  given  time. 
At  the  end  of  the  term  I  felt  too  green 
to  submit  to  an  examination,  which 
made  it  necessary  to  attend  another 
term  to  secure  the  degree.  This  I  did 
at  another  Institution,  and  later  an  hon- 
ored professional  standing  was  attained. 


64 


HIS  OPINION  ABOUT  SLAVERY. 

Following  close  on  the  term  in  Mo- 
bile, the  spring  and  part  of  the  summer 
were  spent  in  Wilcox  and  Dallas,  visit- 
ing among  relatives  and  old  friends  of 
our  family.  Perhaps  it  was  to  our 
cousin,  Ulma  Crumpton,  my  views  on 
the  negro  question  were  expressed  about 
thus :  "Well,  my  purpose  in  leaving 
California  was  to  finally  settle  down 
on  a  plantation  with  the  ownership  of  as 
many  darkies  as  my  means  would  buy, 
but  after  being  away  from  the  institu- 
tion so  long  and  seeing  the  harrassing 
cares  and  annoyances  connected  with 
managing  and  providing  for  the  crea- 
tures, my  sympathies  are  with  those  of 
you  who  are  responsible  to  God  and  man 
for  their  humane  treatment.  The  dar- 
key has  the  best  of  it.  I  would  not 
swap  places  with  you.  I  wouldn't  ac- 
cept as  a  gift  the  best  plantation  and 
darkies  thereon  and  be  forced  to  con- 
tinue as  such  owner." 


65 


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Part    Two 

By  W.  B.  Crumpton 

The  Adventures  of  W.  B.  Crumpton,  going 
to  and  returning  from  California,  including 
his  Lecture,  "  The  Original  Tramp,  or 
How  a  Boy  Got  through  the  Lines  to  the 
Confederacy" 


67 


HOW  I  BEGAN  TO  LECTURE. 


<2^gg^  HE  following  is  about  the 
way  I  tell  it: 

J?jSP  The  story  I  am  to  tell 
g5j^S|^|i)  relates  my  own  personal 
adventures,  which  I  often  told 
around  the  fire-side,  with  no  dream  of 
its  ever  assuming  the  shape  of  a  lec- 
ture. My  old  friend,  Col.  J.  T.  Mur- 
fee,  President  of  Howard  College, 
insisted  that  I  should  turn  it  into  a  lec- 
ture. My  reply  was :  "Some  day,  when 
I  nave  time,  I  may  sit  down  and  write 
it  out,  dressing  it  up  with  beautiful  lan- 
guage, weaving  in  some  poetry,  and  then 
branch  out  as  a  full  fledged  lecturer."    I 

69 


suppose  the  leisure  time  never  would 
have  come  and  probably  the  lecture 
never  been  delivered  but  for  a  fool- 
hardy spell  that  possessed  me  on  one  oc- 
casion when  I  was  in  Mt.  Sterling,  Ky. 
A  brother  said:  "Our  Baptist  young 
people  want  you  to  deLver  a  lecture. 
You  are  going  to  be  here  several  days. 
Could  you  not  do  so?"  And  I  promptly 
said  "Yes."  The  next  question  was: 
"What  is  the  name  of  the  lecture?"  I 
had  never  thought  of  that  before,  but  I 
blurted  out:  "How  a  boy  got  through 
the  Lines  to  the  Confederacy."  "How 
much  do  you  charge?"  That  was  a  new 
question  too,  but  I  ventured  to  say: 
"About  one-half."  So  it  was  arranged 
and  a  dodger  was  gotten  out  by  the 
preacher  and  printer  headed:  "War, 
War,  War."  It  was  the  time  of  the 
Spanish-American  war  and  it  ran 
about  this  way:  "Dr.  W.  B.  Crumpton, 
of  Georgetown,  Ky.,  being  in  our  city 
for  a  few  days  has  kindly  consented  to 
deliver  his  famous  lecture  at  the  Court 
House  tonight  at  7:30  o'clock  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Baptist  Young  People's 
Union.  It  is  a  rare  opportunity  our  citi- 

70 


zens  have  to  hear  this  distinguished 
lecturer.  Come  one,  come  all.  A  treat 
awaits  you.  Admission  Ten  Cents." 
The  old  people  concluded,  as  long  as  the 
price  was  so  small,  that  it  was  only  a 
funny  story  I  was  going  to  relate  to  the 
young  people  and  they  were  conspicu- 
ous by  their  absence. 

After  spending  a  nervous  afternoon, 
I  went  out  to  the  Court  House  and  found 
about  a  hundred  and  fifty  young  people 
and  children  gathered.  I  said  to  my- 
self: "You  have  made  yourself  a  fool 
now.  These  children  will  all  be  asleep 
in  about  ten  minutes,  and  you  will  be 
ashamed  of  yourself  the  balance  of  your 
life  for  attempting  to  lecture."  When 
I  was  through  with  the  story,  only  two 
very  small  kids  were  asleep,  so  I  took 
it  as  a  good  indication  that  I  had  some- 
thing worth  while.  I  returned  to  my 
home,  taking  with  me  some  of  the  fine 
circulars  for  the  amusement  of  my  fam- 
ily, and  concluded  to  make  a  further  test 
by  giving  a  free  lecture  in  the  College 
Chapel.  It  was  well  advertised  and 
probably  five  hundred  people  were  pres- 
ent, many  old  veterans  and  a  large  num- 

71 


ber  of  students.  When  I  was  through, 
parties  congratulated  me,  and  I  conclud- 
ed that  I  could  afford  to  continue  spin- 
ning the  yarn.  So  I  have  delivered  the 
lecture  in  a  great  many  places,  wherever 
the  young  people  or  women  would  get 
up  an  audience. 

The  lecture  was  called  the  "Original 
Tramp;  or  How  a  boy  got  through  the 
lines  to  the  Confederacy."  One  pious 
old  sister  who  heard  it  suggested  that 
the  name  be  changed  to :  "How  the  Lord 
took  care  of  a  boy  while  going  through 
the  lines,"  and  I  cheerfully  accept  the 
amended  form. 

It  is  not  a  religious  lecture.  The  boy 
I  am  to  tell  about  was  not  working  at 
religion  much,  though  a  member  of  the 
church.  But  I  hope  there  will  be  dis- 
covered the  marks  of  an  over-ruling 
Providence  running  like  a  silver  thread 
through  all  the  story.  He  has  believed, 
for  many  years,  the  Lord  had  him  in 
hand,  though  he  knew  it  not,  prepar- 
ing him  for  the  task  that  has  been  his 
for  many  years.  If  some  reader  shall 
come  to  believe  in  the  Guiding  Hand  in 
his  or  her  own  life,  I  shall  be  happy. 

72 


The  lecture  began  with  my  return 
from  California;  but  I  have  concluded 
to  give  the  whole  narrative,  beginning 
with  my  first  start  to  California,  and 
let  the  reader  pick  out  where  the  "Fa- 
mous Lecture"  begins. 


73 


Chapter    I 


A  boy's  best  friend;  A  boy  without  ambi- 
tion; "A  sucker  ready  to  bite  at  any  bait"; 
Remembers  his  brother's  counsel;  Off  to  sea; 
Completely  transformed. 

I  once  heard  a  blind  man  sing — I  re- 
member one  line  of  the  chorus: 

"A  BOY'S  BEST  FRIEND  IS  HIS  MOTHER." 

How  true  is  that  and  the  poor  boy 
doesn't  realize  it  until  the  mother  is 
taken  from  him.  After  she  is  gone  out 
of  the  home,  the  world  is  never  again 
what  it  was  to  him. 

My  home  was  broken  up  by  the  death 
of  my  mother  when  I  was  only  thirteen. 
I  became  a  wanderer.  Sometimes  I 
worked  on  a  farm,  sometimes  I  went  to 
school,  after  a  fashion.  When  my 
brother,  an  "old    forty-niner,"    as    the 

75 


first  gold-hunters  in  California  were 
called,  visited  relatives  at  Pleasant  Hill 
in  Dallas  county,  he  found  me  in  school. 
He  thought  that  travel  would  be  the 
best  schooling  for  me.  So  he  asked  me 
one  day  how  I  would  like  to  go  to  Cal- 
ifornia. My  answer  in  the  negative 
amazed  him.  I  was  perfectly  content 
to  remain  where  I  was.  I  was  honest 
about  it.  I  had  been  to  Montgomery, 
Selma,  Cahaba  and  Prattville,  and  had 
frequently  seen  steam  boats  on  the  Ala- 
bama— had  actually  ridden  on  one — had 
but  one  desire  as  to  travel  ungratified. 
I  wanted  some  day  to  go  to  Mooile  and 
then  to  East  Mississippi  to  see  my  kin. 
I  had  determined  to  make  that  trip  if 
I  lived  to  be  grown;  beyond  that  I  had 
no  ambition  to  see  the  world. 

This  satisfied  condition  indicated  to 
my  brother  that 

I    WAS    WITHOUT    AMBITION. 

This  distressed  him  no  little.  Through 
another  party  he  approached  me  next 
time.  I  was  asked  if  I  would  be  willing 
to  go  to  California  to  look  after  some 

76 


business  for  my  brother ;  then  to  return 
if  I  desired.  To  this  proposition,  I  read- 
ily consented.  It  seemc  ludicrous,  in- 
deed, now  to  think  of  sending  an  ignor- 
ant boy  on  such  a  journey,  to  "look 
after  business;"  but  I  fell  into  the 
scheme  and  felt  my  importance  as  never 
before. 

My  brother  was  wise  and  knew  the 
ways  of  the  world  and  was  kind  enough 
to  accompany  me  as  far  as  he  could. 
First  he  took  me  down  the  Alabama  to 
Mobile,  then  sent  me  alone  up  the  M. 
&  0.  (the  first  railroad  I  ever  saw)  to 
Enterprise,  Miss.,  to  visit  my  relatives 
beyond  there  in  Jasper  county.  I  hired 
a  horse  and  buggy  from  a  Mr.  Edmon- 
son and  drove  out  twenty-four  miles  to 
my  brother-in-law's  home.  Returning, 
he  accompanied  me  to  Montgomery  by 
boat,  thence  by  rail  to  Savan- 
nah, Charleston,  Wilmington,  Rich- 
mond, Baltimore,  Washington,  Philadel- 
phia and  finally  to  New  York,  two  days 
before  the  time  for  the  steamer  to  sail. 
We  lay  over  a  day  at  most  of  the  cities 
mentioned  to  give  me  a  chance  to  learn 
some  of  the  ways  of  the  world.    I  was  a 

77 


"SUCKER,  READY  TO  BITE  AT  ANY  BAIT." 

I  doubt  if  ever  a  boy  started  on  so 
long  a  trip  as  green  as  I.  One  incident 
will  show  my  ignorance.  While  in  Ne  v 
York,  one  afternoon,  I  saw  a  great  com- 
motion on  the  streets.  Going  out  I  saw 
my  first  fire  engine.  The  engine  was  of 
the  old  kind,  with  long  ropes  attached, 
pulled  by  men.  There  the  poor  fellows 
were  toiling  over  the  rough  streets,  tug- 
ging at  the  ropes  and  frantically  appeal- 
ing to  the  crowds  of  people  who  lined 
the  sidewalks  to  come  to  their  aid.  I 
had  read  of  great  fires  destroying  large 
cities  and  turning  multitudes  out  as 
homeless  wanderers,  and  I  made  sure 
that  just  such  a  thing  was  about  to  hap- 
pen to  New  York.  I  was  paralyzed  at 
the  utter  indifference  of  the  people  who 
gazed  unmoved  at  the  heroic  firemen  and 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  their  appeals.  I 
could  stand  it  no  longer,  so  I  leaped  out 
into  the  street  and  seized  the  rope.  I 
was  a  tall,  slim,  awkward  lad,  about 
eighteen  years  old,  thin  as  a  match,  pale 
as  a  ghost  and  had  on  a  long  Jim 
Swinger.     The  crowd  cheered,    but    I 

78 


didn't  know  what  it  was  about.  The 
firemen  encouraged  me,  of  course.  "Go 
it,  my  laddie,  brave  boy;  now  we'll  save 
the  town,"  were  some  of  the  cheering 
remarks  the  firemen  spoke  as  I  tugged 
away  with  all  my  might  on  the  rope. 
"Stand  up,  my  son,"  was  another,  as  I 
slipped  on  the  cobble  stones.  The  fire 
reached,  I  was  put  in  position  with  the 
others  to  pump  the  machine.  I  knew 
nothing  of  what  was  going  on,  for  I 
was  intent  on  trying  to  save  the  town. 
After  awhile,  by  the  awkwardness  of 
some  fellow  who  held  the  nozzle  (of 
course  it  was  all  accidental)  the  stream 
struck  me  full  in  the  breast  and  I  was 
nearly  drowned.  A  great  shout  we-,t 
up  from  the  crowd,  and  I  realized  that 
the  eyes  of  several  thousand  spectators, 
who  had  been  drawn  to  the  fire,  were 
centered  on  me.  I  guessed  afterward 
that  the  fire,  which  I  never  saw,  had 
been  subdued,  and  they  were  having  a 
little  sport  at  my  expense. 

I  turned  loose  the  pump  as  though  I 
had  been  shot,  drew  my  overcoat  tight 
about  me,  for  it  was  very  cold,  and  dart- 


79 


ed  through  the  crowd,  going  I  knew 
not  whither.    Fortunately 

MY   BROTHER'S   COUNSEL     CAME    TO     MY 

aid: 

"If  you  ever  get  lost  in  a  city,  don't 
try  to  find  your  way  back,  but  hail  the 
first  hack  you  see,  and  tell  the  driver  to 
take  you  to  your  hotel."  This  I  did, 
and  as  the  carriage  rumbled  over  the 
streets  across  several  blocks,  I  was 
wishing  and  praying  that  I  might  g?.t 
to  my  room  without  being  seen  by  my 
brother.  He  was  not  in  the  lobby  of 
the  hotel,  and  I  was  congratulating  my- 
self, as  I  wearily  toiled  up  the  stairs, 
that  I  had  missed  him,  and  he  would 
never  know  of  my  misfortune;  but  I 
was  doomed  to  disappointment.  Open- 
ing the  door,  there  he  was  in  the  room ! 
As  I  stood  before  him,  bedraggled  with 
mud  and  water,  his  eyes  opened  wide 
and  he  took  me  in.  "Where  have  you 
been?"  he  exclaimed.  I  gasped  out: 
"To  the  fire!"  He  was  not  a  prayer- 
meeting  man,  and  I  will  not  repeat  his 
language.    As  he  rolled  on  the  beet,  yell- 

80 


ing  like  a  Comanche  Indian,  I  was  ut- 
terly disgusted  with  him.  I  saw  noth- 
ing to  laugh  about.  I  have  never  helped 
at  a  fire  since  then,  and  when  I  hear 
the  fire  alarm  and  see  the  engine  in  its 
mad  rush,  I  am  inclined  to  want  to  go 
in  the  other  direction. 

OFF  TO  SEA 

is  a  beautiful  thing  to  read  about,  but 
it  has  a  serious  side.  I  didn't  mind 
separating  with  my  brother  so  much.  He 
had  introduced  me  to  the  captain  and 
purser  of  the  steamer,  besides  these,  I 
knew  not  a  soul.  I  was  much  interest- 
ed, for  the  hour  or  two  before  night- 
fall, watching  the  shipping.  Everything 
was  new  to  me,  but  darkness  came  down 
upon  us  before  we  were  out  of  the  har- 
bor. I  shall  never  forget  the  sensation 
when  the  vessel  struck  the  first  billow 
of  the  rolling  ocean.  As  the  old  vessel 
lurched  forward,  and  her  timbers  be- 
gan to  creak,  some  one  said :  "That's 
pretty  strong  for  a  starter."  Another 
said:  "Shouldn't  wonder  if  we  didn't 
have  a  rough  voyage."  And  yet  another : 

81 


"It  is  always  dangerous  at  sea  in 
March."  For  the  first  time  I  began  to 
get  alarmed.  I  watched  the  swinging 
lamps,  the  supper  tables  that  looked  as 
if  they  were  going  over  and  spill  ail 
the  dishes;  the  sick  passengers  as  they 
flew  either  to  their  staterooms  or  to  the 
upper  deck.  Only  a  little  while  elapsed 
before  I  was  in  bed  myself,  wishing  for 
my  brother  and  abusing  myself  for  ever 
undertaking  the  trip. 

Oh!  the  desolation  and  loneliness  of 
that  horrid  night  as  I  rolled  with  every 
motion  of  the  vessel!  I  never  slept  a 
wink.  Next  morning  I  looked  out  of 
the  port-hole  and  saw  the  mad  waves 
of  the  ocean.  To  my  surprise  the  sun 
was  shining;  but  it  looked  to  me  like  a 
storm  was  raging.  I  learned  after- 
wards that  the  Atlantic  is  always  rough 
and  that  I  was  the  only  one  on  board 
who  was  much  alarmed.  Three  days 
and  nights  I  kept  my  bed  from  sheer 
fright  and  home-sickness.  I  know  it  was 
not  sea-sickness,  for  I  tested  myself, 
time  and  time  again,  afterwards  and 
never  had  tho  first  symptom. 

I  had  about  made  up  my  mind  that 

82 


I  would  never  see  the  home  folks  again, 
but  would  die  in  a  few  days  and  be  bur- 
ied in  the  ocean.  The  third  day  the  old 
Captain  came  in  on  his  rounds  of  in- 
spection. When  he  found  that  I  was 
not  sick,  he  shouted :  "Pshaw,  boy,  get 
out  of  this  and  be  a  man;  get  on  deck 
and  get  a  sniff  of  the  salt  air  and  you 
will  be  all  right  in  two  minutes  and  as 
hungry  as  a  wolf.  Out,  out  with  you; 
be  a  man."  In  less  time  than  it  takes  co 
write  it 

I  WAS  COMPLETELY  TRANSFORMED. 

All  my  fears  were  gone  and  I  found 
the  Captain's  words  true.  As  I  looked 
at  the  hundreds  of  people  on  the  open 
deck,  there  were  eight  hundred  passen- 
gers, all  happy  and  cheerful,  I  felt  dis- 
graced to  have  been  such  a  coward. 
There  was  the  boundless  ocean  on  every 
side.  No  sign  of  land  anywhere  and, 
strange  to  say,  I  was  not  a  bit  afraid. 
The  reassuring  words  of  the  Captain 
had  saved  me.  Many  a  poor  fellow  has 
given  up  and  gone  down  in  the  battle 
of  life,  who  might  have  been  saved  if 

83 


someone  had  only  spoken  the  cheering 
words  in  time. 

Down  through  the  tropical  islands  to 
Aspinwall,  now  called  Colon,  across  the 
Isthmus  of  Darien,  where  the  Panama 
Canal  is  now  being  constructed,  on  the 
railroad  to  the  ancient  city  of  Pan- 
ama and  up  the  beautiful  Pacific  in- 
to the  lovely  harbor  of  Acapulco,  Mexi- 
co, where  we  stopped  a  day  for  coal,  and 
finally  through  the  Golden  Gate;  we 
dropped  anchor  in  the  Bay  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, just  twenty-four  days  from  New 
York.  Not  a  soul  in  all  the  great  city 
did  I  know ;  but  I  was  soon  in  the  hands 
of  the  friends  of  my  brother.  I  felt 
like  Mrs.  Partington  when  she  struck 
land  after  being  to  sea,  she  exclaimed: 
"Thank  the  Lord  for  terra  cotta,"  and  I 
promised  myself  never  again  to  get  on 
an  ocean  steamer. 


84 


Chapter   Two 


Looking  for  a  job;  A  hostler;  In  San  Fran- 
cisco; Packing  gold  through  tne  streets; 
Moves  to  Oakland;  Impulse  to  shout  "Hurrah 
for  Jeff  Davis." 

ffl  N  THE  diggings,  among  the 
^  j.  miners,  I  spent  three 
^^  months,  "keeping  bach," 
Jf  with  a  genteel  old  Scotch- 
man, in  my  brother's  cabin  on  the  moun- 
tain side.  From  the  little  stoop  in  front 
of  my  cabin,  I  could  see  villages  of 
Digger  Indians,  Chinese  and  Greasers, 
and  people  from  every  nation  of  the 
earth. 

Later  I  was  introduced  to  a  Boston- 
ian  who  was  sheriff  of  Placer  county. 
He  had  been  told  I  was 


LOOKING  FOR  A  JOB. 

He  turned  his  cold,  grey  eyes  on  me 

85 


and  said:  "I  knew  old  Crump — he  was 
never  afraid  of  work;  but  Southern 
boys  generally  feel  themselves  above  it. 
I  wonder  if  you  are  that  way.  I  want 
somebody  to  be  here  about  the  court 
house  and  jail  all  the  time  to  keep 
things  cleaned  up  and  to  feed  and  curry 
my  four  horses.  Can  you  curry  horses? 
Are  you  ashamed  of  it?  Suppose  some- 
time when  you  were  with  your  over- 
alls on,  currying  horses,  a  pretty  girl 
comes  along  the  street,  guess  you'd  run 
up  in  the  loft  and  hide,  eh?  Now,  for 
that  sort  of  work  for  a  boy  about  your 
age,  I  have  fifty  dollars  a  month  and 
grub.  What  do  you  say?"  My!  how  he 
did  fire  the  questions  at  me  and  how 
his  grey  eyes  did  snap  and  pierce  me 
through!  Fifty  dollars  a  month  was  a 
big  thing  in  my  eyes.  I  was  a  little  on 
my  mettle  to  show  the  Boston  Yankee 
what  a  Southern  boy  could  do  if  he 
tried.    So  I  became 

A  HOSTLER 

for  nine  months.  I  was  used  to  all 
kinds  of  work  on  the  farm,  but  never 

85 


had  any  occasion  to  become  an  expert — 
with  the  curry  comb.  I  was  privileged 
to  belt  a  pistol  about  me  and  guard 
a  prisoner  while  he  did  the  work,  if  I 
liked;  but  generally  I  preferred  doing 
the  work  myself. 

For  the  benefit  of  my  own  boys  and 
others  who  may  chance  to  read  these 
lines,  I  want  to  record  it:  the  three 
months  roughing  it  in  the  miner's  cabin, 
and  the  nine  months  currying  Sheriff 
Bullock's  horses,  made  a  year  of  most 
valuable  training  for  me.  I  learned 
more  that  twelve  months  than  in  any  of 
my  life,  except  the  years  later  in  the 
Civil  War. 

I  was  always  fond  of  the  girls. 
I  was  never  in  any  place  long 
before  I  was  well  acquainted  with  a 
number  of  the  nicest  in  the  town.  In- 
stead of  running  up  in  the  loft  to  hide 
when  they  came  along,  many  a  pleasant 
chat  did  I  have,  standing  before  the 
stable  door  with  my  overalls  on  and  my 
sleeves  rolled  up  to  my  elbows.  My 
brother,  returning  from  the  States, 
took  me 


87 


TO  SAN  FRANCISCO 

and  put  me  in  school.  Some  of  my 
leisure  time  he  expected  me  to  look  af- 
ter his  business.  My  ignorance  of  busi- 
ness methods  is  well  illustrated  by  the 
following  incident:  He  went  away, 
leaving  a  note  of  something  over 
three  thousand  dollars.  It  was  in  the 
hands  of  a  lawyer  friend  and  was  not 
due.  He  told  me  he  would  send  me  a 
draft  to  pay  that  note. 

I  didn't  know  what  a  draft  was;  but 
it  finally  came  in  the  mail  by  the  steam- 
er which  came  once  a  month. 

I  could  hardly  sleep  that  night  for 
fe:ir  somebody  would  steal  it.  I  felt 
sure  something  was  going  to  happen  to 
me  before  I  got  the  note  paid.  I  had 
read  of  hold-ups  at  night,  and  even  in 
day  time  parties  had  been  enticed  into 
dark  alleys  and  robbed.  Next  morning 
it  looked  as  if  the  bank  would  never 
open  its  doors.  I  passed  and  repassed, 
afraid  to  stop  and  look  in,  for  fear  some 
one  would  suspect  I  had  some  money 
and  would  lay  a  trap  for  me.  Finally 
the  door  opened  and  I  was  the  first  to 


enter.  I  presented  the  draft.  It  was 
the  proudest  act  of  my  life.  The  fellow 
looked  at  it,  and  then  at  me,  turned  it 
over,  looked  on  a  book,  cut  his  eye  at 
me  again,  then  looked  at  his  watch, 
asked  me  some  more  questions,  then 
went  in  a  back  room  and  was  gone,  oh ! 
so  long.  "Surely,"  I  began  to  think, 
"maybe  he  will  slip  out  of  the  back  door 
and  I  will  never  see  my  draft  anymore." 
But  finally  he  returned  with  another 
man.  I  can't  recall  it  all  now,  but  after 
a  while  it  was  arranged  and  the  man 
asked:  "What  do  you  want  for  this?" 
"Want  gold,"  was  my  reply.  I  had  heard 
of  bank  notes  that  were  not  good — there 
were  no  green  backs  then.  I  was  de- 
termined to  be  on  the  safe  side.  Noth- 
ing but  gold  would  satisfy  me.  "Mighty 
heavy  for  you  to  pack,'  he  said,  but  I 
knew  of  no  other  way.  Two  sacks  were 
given  me.  My !  how  my  eyes  opened  as 
the  money  was  counted  into  the  sacks 
in  $20  gold  pieces.  I  had  never  seen  33 
much  money  before. 


89 


TAKING  A  SACK  IN  EACH  HAND,  I  TRUDGED 
AWAY  UP  THE  STREET. 

Block  after  block  was  passed  and 
finally  I  went  up  the  stairway  and  stood 
almost  breathless  in  the  lawyer's  office. 
Depositing  my  treasure  on  a  chair,  I 
said :  "Mr.  Anderson,  that  note  is  due 
today  and  I  have  come  to  pay  it."  "All 
right,  my  boy,  you  could  have  waited 
three  days  longer  if  you  wished/  was 
the  lawyer's  kind  reply.  I  had  been  im- 
pressed with  the  exact  date  and  thought 
it  so  fortunate  that  the  steamer  arrived 
just  the  day  before  the  note  fell  due.  I 
thought  something  awful  would  happen 
if  it  was  not  promptly  settled,  when  due. 
I  knew  nothing  of  days  of  grace.  "But 
what  have  you  in  those  sacks,"  queried 
the  lawyer  in  a  kindly  tone.  "That's 
the  money,"  I  replied.  Of  course  the 
laugh  was  on  me.  There  I  got  my  first 
lesson  in  banking.  The  draft  endorsed 
by  me,  would  have  suited  him  much  bet- 
ter than  the  two  sacks  of  gold  coin.  So 
I  was  a  "gold  bug"  when  William  Jen- 
nings Bryan  was  a  kid,  and  I  have  never 
changed  my  platform. 

90 


I  chanced  one  Saturday  to  go 

TO  OAKLAND, 

quite  a  nice  town  then — now  a  great 
city.  My  brother  had  told  me  of  an 
old  friend  of  his  over  there,  Judge  Ms- 
Kee,  and  I  called  on  him.  I  found  him 
to  be  an  intense  Southerner.  His  wife 
was  a  Miss  Davis,  from  Mississippi,  a 
kinswoman  of  Jeff  Davis,  afterwards 
President  of  the  Confederacy.  It  so 
happened  that  there  was  to  be  a  gather- 
ing of  young  people  at  his  house  that 
night  and  they  were  all  Southern  peo- 
ple. Of  course  I  was  not  slow  to  ac- 
cept an  invitation  to  remain  over.  Such 
a  company  of  fire-eating  Southerners  T 
had  no  idea  could  be  gotten  together  in 
California.  All  the  talk  was  about  se- 
cession. All  the  songs  were  of  the 
South.  I  heard  Dixie  for  the  first  time. 
I  had  been  boarding  with  a  New  Bed- 
ford Yankee — an  abolitionist,  a  South 
hater.  It  required  only  a  hint  on  the 
part  of  my  new  friends  to  make  a  great 
change  in  my  living.  I  went  to  Oakland 
College,  selected  a  room,  and  two  days 

91 


later  I  was  out  of  the  great  city  and 
over  the  bay  where  every  week  I  could 
visit  my  Southern  friends  and  talk  "se- 
cesh."  The  more  we  talked,  of  course, 
the  madder  I  got  and  when  the  war 
broke  out  a  few  weeks  later,  the  spirit 
of  rebellion  was  hot  within  me.  It  was 
a  time  of  great  excitement  and  great 
danger.  On  a  Friday  night  I  went  over 
to  the  city.  The  next  morning  as  I  was 
dressing,  I  thought  I  heard  an  unusual 
tone  in  the  voices  of  the  newsboys  and 
I  heard  excited  voices  on  the  street  and 
in  the  hotel.  When  I  reached  the  side- 
walk I  heard  the  cry:  "Here's  the 
Morning  Call !  All  about  the  great  bat- 
tle of  Bull  Run."  "Federal  troops  fall- 
ing back  on  Washington,  pursued  by 
the  Rebel  army.  Rebel  army  marching 
on  the  Capital."  My  first  impulse  was 
to  shout: 

"HURRAH    FOR   JEFF   DAVIS/" 

Had  I  done  so,  I  would  have  been  torn 
to  pieces  by  crowds  surging  through  the 
streets.  All  business  was  suspended, 
the  streets  were  jammed.     I  bought  a 

92 


paper  and  got  out  of  the  crowd  as  quick- 
ly as  possible.  I  hardly  stirred  out  of 
the  office  of  my  friend  all  day,  so  fearful 
was  he  that  my  mouth  would  get  me 
into  trouble.  The  next  day  I  attended 
Dr.  Scott's  church  (Presbyterian) 
where  I  frequently  went  because  he  was 
from  New  Orleans.  His  and  the  Meth- 
odist Church,  South,  were  the  only 
churches  which  did  not  have  flag  staffs 
on  them.  A  mob  gathered  on  Saturday 
night  and  burned  the  old  doctor  in  ef- 
figy and  wrapped  the  lamp  posts  and 
the  front  of  the  church  in  American 
flags.  In  the  streets  Sunday  morning 
was  a  wild  mob  of  several  thousand. 
The  house  was  packed  with  an  immense 
audience  of  men — only  two  ladies  pres- 
ent, one  the  wife  of  the  preacher.  The 
sermon  was  a  plain  gospel  sermon,  with 
no  reference  whatever  to  the  surround- 
ings. After  the  service  a  large  company 
of  police  fought  their  way  through  the 
crowd  at  the  head  of  the  carriage  which 
conveyed  the  preacher  and  his  family. 
On  the  next  steamer,  the  good  man  sail- 
ed for  New  York,  where  I  afterwards 
learned,  he  was  pastor  of  a  Presbyterian 

93 


church  during  the  four  years  of  the  war. 
It  is  impossible  for  one  who  was  not 
there,  to  conceive  of  the  excitement. 
Dr.  Scott  had  said  nothing  to  provoke 
this  outbreak,  except  at  the  meeting  of 
his  Presbytery,  he  protested  against  the 
custom  then  prevailing  of  putting  flag 
staffs  on  the  church  buildings.  Though 
I  was  a  Baptist,  I  did  not  affiliate  much 
with  the  people  of  my  faith  because 
they  had  gone  into  politics — the  preach- 
er's prayers  and  sermons  being  leveled 
against  the  South.  0.  P.  Fitzgerald, 
now  a  Bishop  in  Nashville,  was  pastor 
of  the  little  Methodist  Church,  South,  in 
the  city.  He  had  regular  appointments 
at  Oakland  in  the  afternoons.  I  became 
very  fond  of  him  and  he  knew  me  right 
well.  When  the  Southern  Baptist  Con- 
vention met  in  Nashville  some  years 
ago,  the  aged  Bishop  was  introduced  to 
the  body.  After  the  close  of  the  session 
I  approached  him  with  the  remarks: 
''You  never  saw  me  before?"  Instantly 
he  replied:  "Yes,  sir,  this  is  Crumpton. 
I  knew  you  by  your  voice."  It  had  been 
thirty  years  since  we  had  met.  In  such 
an  atmosphere  as  we  breathed  in  Cali- 

94 


fornia  in  those  days,  it  is  not  strange 
that  Southern  sympathizers  began  lay- 
ing plans  and  schemes  for  getting  back 
South. 


95 


Chapter    Three 


A  firm  resolve  broken;  A  layover  at  Pitts- 
burg; At  Beloit,  Wis.;  The  fall  of  Fort  Don- 
elson. 

OMPANIES  were  secretly 
organized  and  meeting 
places  agreed  upon  far  out 
^^^  on  the  eastern  border.  Some 
of  these  companies  were  butchered  by 
the  Indians;  others  overtaken  and  cap- 
tured by  the  Federal  cavalry.  My 
brother,  suspecting  my  state  of  mind, 
came  out  and  we  held  a  conference.  He 
had  large  interests  there  and  some  in 
Alabama.  He  proposed  to  leave  me 
there  to  look  after  his  affairs  while  he 
came  through  the  lines ;  but  that  was  not 
my  mind  at  all.  I  announced  my  pur- 
pose to  go.  He  was  opposed  to  my  at- 
tempting the  trip  across  the  plains  no 
matter  how  strong  the    company    that 

97 


accompanied  me.  He  wanted  me  to  run 
no  risks.  He  planned  the  trip — back 
over  the  same  route  to  New  York,  thence 
to  Wisconsin  to  the  home  of  an  old 
friend,  to  remain  until  spring — mean- 
time, corresponding  with  Col.  U.  S. 
Grant,  the  military  commander  at  Cai- 
ro, 111.,  to  get  a  pass,  if  possible,  on 
some  pretext  or  other,  through  the  lines. 

MY  FIRM  RESOLVE 

against  ever  again  going  on  an  ocean 
steamer  had  to  be  broken.  I  was  in  a 
condition  of  mind  which  would  have 
made  me  willing  to  attempt  the  trip  in 
a  balloon.  On  November  30,  1861,  I 
took  the  steamer.  On  January  1st,  I 
reached  my  destination  at  Beloit,  Wis. 
The  trip  was  full  of  interesting  inci- 
dents, but  I  mention  only  two.  I  made 
the  acquaintance  on  the  steamer 
of  a  Marylander,  who  had  been 
in  California  for  many  years.  His 
destination  was  Baltimore.  He  ex- 
pected to  get  through  the  lines  and  join 
the  Confederate  cavalry.  When  we 
reached  New  York,  he  gave  me  a  little 

98 


four  barrel  Sharp's  pistol  with  one  hun- 
dred cartridges.  He  expected  to  equip 
himself  with  something  more  formid- 
able. This,  the  only  pistol  I  ever  owned, 
was  one  of  the  most  harmless  weapons 
I  ever  saw.  I  mention  it  now  only  to 
introduce  it  later. 

Reaching  Panama  and  boarding  the 
Isthmus  train,  I  observed  a  frail  young 
fellow  in  the  uniform  of  a  lieutenant  of 
U.  S.  Navy  passing  through  the  train 
frequently,  viewing  with  some  care  the 
passengers.  He  seemed  to  let  his  gaze 
rest  upon  me  each  time,  in  a  way  to 
make  me  a  little  uncomfortable.  Was 
it  possible,  I  thought,  that  somebody  had 
found  out  my  secret  and  had  sent  this 
chap  aboard  to  look  me  out  and  arrest 
me  when  I  reached  Aspinwall?  In  the 
few  hours  ride  across  the  Isthmus,  I 
worked  myself  up  to  a  very  unhappy 
state  of  mind.  It  was  after  dark  when 
we  got  aboard  the  steamer  North  Star, 
the  same  I  had  gone  out  in,  which  the 
Government  afterwards  purchased  and 
turned  into  a  gunboat.  While  the  pas- 
sengers were  all  in  line  approaching  the 
office  to  have  their  rooms  assigned,  I 

99 


was  approached  by  the  young  officer 
who  asked  to  see  me.  My  heart  flew  up 
in  my  throat.  All  my  fears  were  about 
to  be  realized.  I  felt  sure  I'd  be  on  a 
man-of-war  and  in  irons  in  a  few  min- 
utes. I  controlled  myself  enough  to 
protest  that  if  I  should  leave  the  line  I 
would  lose  my  place  and  have  to  drop 
back  to  the  foot.  "I  want  to  see  you 
about  that  very  thing,"  he  said.  "I  ha\  e 
a  room  for  you."  My  eyes,  I  know 
were  nearly  as  big  as  saucers,  and  I 
must  have  been  pale  as  a  sheet.  I  made 
some  reply  and  remained  in  lint. 
"Come,"  he  said  in  a  -very  earnest,  ten- 
der tone,  "I  have  seen  the  captain  and 
he  has  given  me  a  room  and  permitted 
me  to  choose  my  own  room-mate,  and 
I  have  picked  you  out."  I  felt  reassured, 
and  followed  him  to  the  identical  berth 
I  had  suffered  tortures  in  nearly  two 
years  before. 

In  a  little  while  he  had  discovered 
that  I  was  Southern  and  he  turned  out 
to  be  a  Virginian,  who  was  playing  sick 
and  was  off  on  a  furlough.  "There  is 
nothing  the  matter  with  me,"  he  said,  "I 
expect  to  be  in  the  Confederate  Navy  in 

100 


thirty  days."  But  in  spite  of  this  re- 
mark, his  uniform  scared  me  and  I  gave 
him  no  intimations  of  my  intentions. 
My  old  Maryland  friend  and  I  tied  on 
to  each  other.  Neither  of  us  sought  ac- 
quaintances with  others  of  the  passen- 
gers. 

On  the  way  from  Jersey  City  to  Chi- 
cago, I  was  left  while  at  dinner  at  Al- 
toona,  Pa.  My  baggage  of  course  went 
on. 

THIS  REQUIRED  A  LAY-OVER  AT  PITTS- 
BURG, 

where  my  belongings  had  been  stopped. 
The  day  happened  to  be  Sunday.  Grow- 
ing tired  of  the  hotel,  I  thought  to  walk 
about  the  city  some  after  dinner.  Pick- 
ing up  the  city  directory  I  glanced 
through  it  curiously  and  chanced  to  see 
the  name  "Crumpton."  Over  the  river, 
in  Alleghaney  City,  there  seemed  to  be 
quite  a  family  of  them.  I  took  the  num- 
ber of  the  street  and  went  in  quest  of 
kins  folk,  not  dreaming  of  trouble. 
Finding  the  place,  I  rang  the  bell  and 


101 


found  the  family  at  dinner.  I  was  ush- 
ered into  the  parlor  and  left  alone. 

Glancing  around  the  room,  I  saw 
American  flags  everywhere  and  the  pic- 
tures or  Lincoln  and  Hamlin,  the  Pres- 
ident and  Vice-President.  "What  a  fool 
I  am,"  I  thought.  My  curiosity  had  got- 
ten me  into  trouble;  but  I  must  get  out 
somehow.  To  slip  out  of  the  house, 
while  the  family  were  yet  at  dinner 
would  never  do.  I  determined  to  face 
the  difficulty.  I  never  knew  why  I  was 
named  Washington  unless  it  was  bo- 
cause  the  father  of  his  country  was  born 
on  February  22na  and  I  on  the  24th. 
However,  you  must  remember  there 
were  several  years  intervening  between 
the  birthdays  of  these  two  distinguished 
men.  I  was  very  unlike  my  illustrious 
namesake.  He  never  could  tell  a  lie,  I 
had  been  successful  in  the  attempt  sev- 
eral times;  but  I  could  not  hide  a  lie.  If 
any  one  looked  straight  at  me  I  would 
betray  myself.  On  this  occasion,  I  stucR 
as  near  the  truth  as  I  could  and  I  guess 
the  story  was  plausible;  at  least  it  was 
not  questioned. 

I  learned  from  the  two  young  men, 

102 


who  met  me  in  the  parlor,  that  their 
father  was  an  Episcopal  clergyman,  out 
of  the  city  that  day ;  that  he  had  several 
sons  in  the  Union  army,  and  these  were 
getting  ready  to  go.  I  was  pressed  earn- 
estly to  remain  over  night  and  see  the 
father,  but  I  was  pressed  for  time  and 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  all  their  appeals 
and,  as  soon  as  possible,  excused  myself 
and  returned  to  the  hotel.  I  was  afraid 
of  my  new  found  kin;  but  they  were 
hard  to  shake  off.  One  of  the  young 
men  accompanied  me  to  the  hotel  and 
that  night  returned  with  an  earnest  invi- 
tation from  the  father,  who  had  return- 
ed, to  visit  him  before  I  left  the  city. 
A  great  weight  was  lifted  when  he  left 
me  and  I  boarded  the  train  for  Chicago. 
At  Altoona  and  Pittsburg,  in  the  hotel 
lobbies,  I  was  compelled  to  hear  war 
talk  of  the  most  offensive  character  by 
the  crowds  of  loafers  who  thronged 
there  to  hear  the  news.  It  was  only  a 
few  miles  to  the  West  Virginia  line. 
The  war  was  on  everybody's  lips.  There 
I  sat  in  the  midst  of  the  talkers,  one 
lone  Southerner,  with  a  secret  purpose 
in  my  mind  which  would  have  brought 

103 


me  into  trouble  if  it  has  been  suspected. 
My  lips  were  sealed  of  course,  but  some- 
times it  was  very  hard  to  keep  silent. 

AT  BELOIT,  WISCONSIN, 

or  rather,  four  miles  in  the  country, 
I  met  a  warm  welcome  from  my 
brother's  old  friends.  He  had  met  them 
in  California  in  the  early  days.  I  learn- 
ed also  that  there  was  a  match  brewing 
between  him  and  the  oldest  daughter, 
which  was  afterwards  consummated. 

How  the  snow  did  pile  up  soon  after 
I  reached  Wisconsin!  I  had  never  seen 
the  like  before.  My  friends,  knowing 
that  I  was  a  Southerner  and  unused 
to  such  severe  weather,  were  as  tender 
of  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  baby;  but  in 
a  few  days  I  did  not  at  all  mind  it. 
Winter  time  is  the  time  for  visiting  in 
the  North,  and  so  I  was  on  the  go  with 
the  family  much  of  the  time.  Another 
way  I  spent  my  time  was  to  go  out  in 
the  deep  snow  in  the  fields.  Sometimes 
a  rabbit,  frightened  at  my  crushing 
through  the  crust  of  the  snow,  would 
jump  out  of  his  hole  ten  feet  away  and 

104 


sit  for  a  moment,  loath  to  run  away  in 
the  cold.  Many  a  time  I  emptied  my 
pistol  at  him  and  would  then  throw  the 
gun  at  him  before  he  would  run  away. 
That  gun  will  be  heard  from  again. 
Without  any  talk  about  it,  I  se- 
cured a  large  map  of  the  "Seat  of 
the  war  in  the  West."  This  I  put  on  the 
wall  in  the  dining  room.  It  gave  all  the 
public  roads.  With  the  study  of  the 
map,  I  read  diligently  the  Chicago  Daily 
Times,  which  gave  the  movements  of 
troops  along  the  route  I  might  choose. 
I  picked  out  two  routes;  one  through 
Southeast  Missouri,  the  other  through 
Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  both  branch- 
ing out  from  Southern  Illinois.  My 
brother  hoped  I  would  become  satisfied 
to  remain  in  this  lovely  Northern  home 
and  go  to  school,  but  I  was  bent 
on  going  to  the  war.  I  did  as 
he  suggested,  however;  I  corres- 
ponded with  Col.  U.  S.  Grant,  com- 
mandant of  the  post  at  Cario,  111.,  af- 
terwards the  great  General  and  twice 
President,  asking  for  a  pass-port  south, 
and  received  a  very  kind  letter  in  re- 
ply, but  denying  the  request. 

105 


I  might  have  remained  in  Wisconsin 
until  spring,  when  I  could  have  had 
better  weather  and  more  money,  but  for 
an  incident  I  will  presently  relate. 

THE  FALL  OF  FT.  DONELSON, 

in  Tennessee,  was  a  fearful  blow  to  me. 
Of  course  there  was  great  exultation 
everywhere  up  North.  I  saw  and  heard 
it  all,  but  could  say  nothing.  One  day 
while  in  Beloit,  I  saw  a  great  crowd  on 
the  sidewalk.  Drawing  near  I  discov- 
ered the  attraction.  It  was  a  butternut 
jeans  jacket,  which  had  been  taken  off  a 
dead  Confederate  at  Ft.  Donelson.  It 
was  shot  through  and  was  saturated 
with  blood.  On  it  was  a  large  placard 
with  these  words : 

"Taken  from  the  dead  body  of  Pri- 
vate Turner  of  the  Mississippi  Rifles  on 
the  battlefield  of  Fort  Donelson." 

I  gazed  at  it  for  a  moment  and  heard 
the  exultant  laugh  and  jeers  from  the 
toughs  who  gathered  about  it.  I  turned 
away  with  clenched  teeth,   determined 

106 


to  go  South  at  all  hazards  and  at  once 
I  announced  to  my  friends  that  evening 
that  I  was  going  to  Chicago,  a  hundred 
miles  away,  next  morning  to  see  the 
Fort  Donelson  prisoners  who  were  con- 
fined in  Camp  Douglas. 


107 


Chapter     Four 


Gets  a  pass  into  Camp  Douglas;  Learns 
first  lesson  in  "Shut-mouth";  Starts  afoot  out 
of  Chicago;  Frogs  in  the  throat;  Pawns  his 
pistol;  Rides  with  Federal  soldiers;  Across  the 
Mississippi. 

«  HAD  only  a  little  money. 

/*  I  could   have   gotten   more 

%JlJ  from     my     friends     if     I 

JA  had    asked    for  it,    but  I 

SSJgjffl 

"^  thought  possibly  I  might 
be  captured  and  traced  back  to 
their  home  and  get  them  in  trouble.  I 
wanted  them  to  have  the  privilege  of 
saying  they  knew  nothing  at  all  about 
my  plans  and  for  the  same  reason,  I 
did  not  care  for  them  to  know  of  my 
intentions.  Lest  I  should  create  some 
suspicion,  I  took  no  satchel  with  me. 
On  the  6th  of  March,  1862,  I  started. 
With  a  shawl  securely  strapped,  in 
which  I  had  slipped  a  shirt,  with  every 
scratch  of  pen  or  pencil,  by  which  I 
might  be  identified,  destroyed,   I  bade 

109 


farewell  to  my  friends,  with  no  expec- 
tation of  returning  again. 

I  shall  say  now  and  then  that  things 
"happened,"  but  I  do  not  believe  that 
things  happen.  I  think  they  are  all  a 
part  of  the  chain  of  God's  great  plan. 

It  so  happened  that  I  put  up  at  the 
Madison  House  in  passing  through 
Chicago,  and  so  I  naturally  went  back 
to  the  same  place  in  returning  to  the 
city,  and  this  happened  to  be  the  head- 
quarters of  Col.  Mulligan,  the  Com- 
mandant of  Camp  Douglas.  Arriving 
there  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  I 
got  aboard  a  street  car  and  went  out  to 
the  Camp.  Looking  through  the  open 
gate,  I  saw  for  the  first  time  Confed- 
erate soldiers.  They  were  all  dressed 
in  butternut  jeans.  In  the  beginning, 
the  Confederates  did  not  wear  the  grey, 
because  they  did  not  have  it.  The  cloth 
made  all  over  the  country  by  the 
mothers  and  sisters  was  jeans,  the  color 
of  butternut. 

Returning  to  the  hotel,  after  supper 
I  wrote  the  very  best  note  I  could  to 
Col.  Mulligan  and  sent  it  up  to  his 
rooms.    Expecting    every    moment    to 

110 


be  called  up  into  his  office,  it 
seemed  that  minutes  were  hours.  I  am 
sure,  if  my  fears  had  been  realized,  it 
would  have  taken  only  about  two  ques- 
tions to  have  tangled  me.  What 
would  have  happened  then,  I  have  no 
idea,  but  I  guess  I  would  have  been 
arrested  and  probably  thrown  into  pris- 
on as  a  Southern  sympathizer.  But  to 
my  great  delight,  the  servant  returned 
with  a  silver  waiter  and  on  it  was  a 
nice  little  card,  saying: 

"LET    MR.   W.     B.     CRUMPTON     INTO     THE 
CAMP  TOMORROW." 

As  soon  as  I  could  get  my  breakfast 
the  next  morning  I  was  on  my  way  to 
the  Camp.  On  entering  the  open  gate, 
I  saw  the  barracks  of  an  Alabama  reg- 
iment. The  Barracks,  were  long,  low 
buildings.  The  Camp  was  laid  off  like 
a  city,  with  streets  and  alleys.  I  en- 
tered the  building  at  once  and  in  a  mo- 
ment was  surrounded  by  a  large  num- 
ber of  men.  I  said :  "You  are  Alabam- 
ians,  and  so  am  I.  I  have  been  to  Cal- 
ifornia.   I  am  on  my  way  back.    I  ex- 

lll 


pect  to  start  tomorrow  morning  from 
this  City,  to  go  through  the  lines  and 
join  the  Confederate  army."  I  rattled 
off  the  words  very  rapidly,  never  real- 
izing for  a  moment  the  danger  I  might 
be  in.  When  I  reached  the  end  of  the 
sentence,  I  looked  into  their  faces,  and 
they  looked  like  boards,  not  a  feature 
indicated  any  sympathy  for  what  I  said. 
It  was  paralyzing;  but  fortunately  a 
Mississippian  happened  to  be  in  the 
crowd.  Why  he  was  there  I  never  did 
know,  but  when  I  had  finished  my 
speech,  he  said:  "Did  you  say  your 
name  was  Crumpton?"  I  said  "yes." 
"And  do  your  father  and  sisters  live 
in  Mississippi?"  I  said  "yes."  "And 
did  you  visit  them  before  you  went  to 
California?"  I  replied  "yes,  two  years 
ago."  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  belong  to  a 
Company  right  from  their  neighbor- 
hood. I  did  not  see  you,  but  I  heard 
the  people  speaking  about  your  visit. 
Come  with  me  and  I  will  introduce  you 
to  the  boys  who  can  tell  you  about  your 
people."  He  took  me  to  his  barracks, 
several  hundred  yards  from  where  I 
was,  carried  me  into  a  back,  dark  cor- 

112 


ner,  and  said  in  a  low  tone:  "You  are 
in  great  danger.  You  must  keep  your 
mouth  shut.  I  am  not  surprised  at  your 
being  carried  away  at  meeting  those 
Alabamians,  but  there  is  a  rumor  out 
among  us  that  they  have  agreed  to  go 
West  and  fight  the  Indians  and  relieve 
the  Regulars  there,  who  will  be  sent  to 
the  front  and  we  all  believe  it."  [In  all 
my  travels  in  Alabama,  I  have  never 
told  the  name  of  that  regiment,  lest  I 
should  find  his  surmise  correct.]  I  know 
you  must  have  observed  the  indifference 
that  they  manifested  when  you  were 
talking.  It  is  more  than  probable  that 
some  of  them  will  betray  you  today  be- 
fore you  get  out.  You  stay  with  us  and 
late  this  evening,  I  will  see  if  I  can't 
get  you  out  through  another  gate.  It 
is  hardly  probable  that  they  would  know 
where  my  quarters  are,  as  I  am  a  per- 
fect stranger  to  them.  It  was  only  an 
accident  that  I  was  present  when  you 
came  in." 


113 


THIS   IS   THE    FIRST    LESSON    I    HAD    IN 
"SHUT-MOUTH" 

and  it  has  served  me  all  my 
days.  You  may  be  sure  I  did  not 
need  a  second  invitation  to  remain 
with  them.  Numbers  of  the  boys  talked 
with  me,  and  we  had  a  pleasant  day. 
Late  in  the  afternoon,  my  friend  con- 
ducted me  in  sight  of  another  gate.  I 
divided  my  money  with  him  and  left. 

Going  back  to  the  hotel,  I  satisfied 
myself  about  the  way  the  Illinois  Cen- 
tral R.  R.  ran  out  from  the  city,  because 
that  was  the  route  I  expected  to  take. 
It  didn't  make  any  difference  then  with 
me  about  lower  or  upper  berths.  The 
next  morning,  Sunday,  the  9th  of  March, 
with  my  shawl  wrapped  up  in  a  hand- 
strap,  and  my  overcoat  and  rubbers  on, 

I   STARTED  OUT  AFOOT  DOWN   THE 
RAILROAD. 

Fifteen  miles  below  was  the  town  of 
Calumet,  now  a  part  of  the  city;  I 
reached  there  about  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon,  and  went  into  the  eating 
house  by  the  railroad.     There  was     a 

114 


large  number  of  men  gathered  around 
the  stove,  talking  about  the  war.  About 
six  o'clock  they  broke  up  and  went  to 
their  homes  for  supper,  and  I  was  left 
alone  with  the  proprietor,  who  was  al- 
so the  railroad  agent. 

I  had  made  it  up  with  my  friends  at 
Camp  Douglass,  if  I  should  be  captured 
I  would  claim  my  name  was  Hardy,  one 
of  their  comrades,  who  had  been  left 
somewhere,  and  they  would  recognize 
me  as  Hardy.  In  that  way,  later  on,  I 
would  be  exchanged  and  get  through. 
It  was  a  poor  put  up  story,  but  that  was 
the  understanding,  so  I  did  not  expect 
to  be  Crumpton  any  more. 

The  proprietor  said :  "You  seem  to 
be  traveling."  I  said  "yes."  "Afoot?" 
"Yes."  "Where  are  you  from?"  "Be- 
loit,  Wisconsin."  "What  is  your  name?" 
I  said  "Crumpton."  Immediately  he 
took  my  breath  by  saying:  "You  are 
lately  from  California,     aren't     you?" 

FORTY  FROGS  SEEMED  TO  JUMP  INTO  MY 
THROAT. 

I     choked     them     down     the     best 

115 


I  could  and  finally  said:  "Yes,  sir 
but  how  did  you  know  it?"  He 
said:  "Do  you  know  Safford  in  Cali- 
fornia?" I  said  "yes,  one  of  the  best 
friends  I  ever  had."  "Well,"  he  replied, 
"Safford  and  I  were  reared  down  in  Cai- 
ro. It  has  been  years  since  I  was  there, 
but  last  Christmas  I  went  to  visit  the 
old  scenes  and,  among  others,  called  on 
his  brother.  He  showed  me  a  letter  from 
the  California  brother,  in  which  he  said 
a  young  man  my  the  name  of  Crump- 
ton  had  gone  to  Beloit,  Wis.,  and  he  had 
sent  some  Japanase  and  Chinese  curios- 
ities by  him."  I  said,  "yes,  I  am  the 
boy.  I  sent  the  curios  by  express  a 
month  ago,  and  I  expect  to  see  the  Saf- 
fords  on  this  trip."  I  did  not  deserve 
anything  for  telling  the  truth;  my  in- 
tention was  to  tell  a  lie.  Suppose  I  had 
said  my  name  was  Hardy.  The  next 
question  would  have  been:  "Do  you 
know  a  young  fellow  by  the  name  of 
Crumpton,  lately  from  California?" 
Then  I  would  have  been  into  it. 

Resuming  the  conversation,  he  said: 
"How  is  it  that  you  are  afoot?"  My  re- 
ply was:     "My  brother    promised     to 

116 


send  me  money  and  when  he  did  not  do 
it,  I  became  impatient  and  determined 
to  go  without  it.  "Where  are  you  go- 
ing?" I  said:  "To  Vienna."  It  was  a 
place  I  had  picked  out  on  the  map,  about 
twenty  miles  East  of  Anna  Station. 
I  guess  it  was  a  very  insignificant  place. 
Anna  Station  was  the  Camp  of  Instruc- 
tion for  the  Federal  Army,  about 
twenty  miles  North  of  Cairo.  I  had 
chosen  that  as  my  point  of  destination, 
as  no  one  would  suspect  me  if  I  should 
be  going  where  the  Federal  soldiers 
were.  My  friend  said:  "Young  man, 
you  are  surely  not  acquainted  with  the 
prairie  and  the  winter  weather.  It  is 
pleasant  for  this  time  of  the  year,  but 
in  a  few  days  snow  storms  and  blizzards 
will  be  the  order  and  any  man,  taking 
the  trip  you  propose  afoot,  would  freeze 
to  death.  It  is  out  of  the  question  for 
you  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  it  is  near 
three  hundred  miles."  I  said:  "Well, 
I  will  go  until  the  storm  breaks  out." 

He  said,  "you  remain  with  me 
tonight.  It  shan't  cost  you  anything, 
and  in  the  morning  I  will  see  if  I  can't 
get  you  a  ticket  to  Anna  Station."     I 

117 


said :  "I  like  to  settle  things  in 
my  mind;  think  I  can  sleep  better.  I 
have  a  little  pistol  here  which  was  giv- 
en me  by  a  friend.  It  is  hardly  of  any 
value  to  anybody  except  me,  but  if  you 
will  take  it  in  pawn,  for  two  weeks,  for 
a  ticket  to  Anna  Station,  I  will  take  the 
ticket;  otherwise  I  will  pursue  my  jour- 
ney afoot."  He  finally  agreed  to  do  as 
I  proposed  and  I  turned  over  the  pistol 
to  him.  It  was  the  only  pistol  I  ever 
possessed.  Really  it  was  a  relief  to  get 
rid  of  it,  for  I  had  been  uneasy  every 
minute  I  had  it  in  my  pocket. 
The  next  morning  I 

TOOK    THE    TRAIN,    WHICH    WAS    LOADED 
DOWN    WITH    FEDERAL    SOLDIERS, 

going  to  Anna  Station.  They  were 
nearly  all  young  men,  in  blue  uni- 
forms and  had  large,  well  filled  knap- 
sacks. I  don't  think  I  spoke  a  word  to 
anybody  that  day.  If  anybody  asked 
me  a  question,  I  answered  only  in 
monosyllables.  I  saw  those  boys  take 
new  Bibles  out  of  their  knapsacks  and 
begin  to  read  them.     Nearly  every  one 

118 


of  them  had  a  Bible.  I  did  not  under- 
stand it  until,  a  few  weeks  later,  when 
my  own  sister  presented  me  with  a  Bi- 
ble, as  I  started  to  the  army,  with  the 
injunction  that  I  should  read  it. 
A  little  before  day  I  reached  Anna 

Station : 
» 

AT  DAYLIGHT   I   STARTED     WEST     TO     THE 
MISSISSIPPI  RIVER, 

instead  of  East  to  Vienna.  Tak- 
ing dinner  with  a  farmer,  who 
was  evidently  in  sympathy  with 
the  Southern  people,  he  said:  "How 
are  you  going  to  get  across  the  river?" 
I  said:  "Is  there  no  ferry  there?"  "No, 
there  is  a  place  where  the  ferry  was, 
but  all  the  boats  from  St.  Louis  to  Cai- 
ro have  been  destroyed  by  the  Federals, 
except  one  belonging  to  a  fisherman, 
four  miles  above  the  old  ferry;  but  he 
is  a  Union  man  and  would  see  you 
dead  before  he  would  put  you  over." 
About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  I 
reached  the  abandoned  ferry.  I  sup- 
pose the  Mississippi  River  was  low- 
er   than    it    had    ever    been    at    that 

119 


time  of  the  year,  and  probably 
ever  has  been  since.  Large  sand 
bars  extended  out  into  the  river  and 
the  stream  was  very  narrow  where  it 
swept  around  the  bar.  I  went  up  to 
the  head  of  the  sand  bar  and  found 
driftwood  of  every  imaginable  kind.  I 
picked  out  some  timbers  and  expected 
to  come  back  and  attempt  to  make  a 
raft  on  which  I  might  pole  or  paddle 
myself  across,  if  I  should  fail  in  get- 
ting across  in  the  fisherman's  boat.  As 
I  approached  the  house  of  the  fisherman, 
I  saw  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  in 
the  village  a  very  large  number  of  men. 
Evidently  they  were  having  a  lot  of 
sport;  I  guessed  they  had  much  liquor 
aboard.  I  got  the  woman  to  call  her 
husband  over.  I  saw  him  and  a  com- 
panion coming  down  the  river  bank  on 
the  other  side.  I  discovered  at  once 
that  they  were  intoxicated.  As  they 
came  up,  the  owner  of  the  boat  said: 
"Who  are  you?"  "I  am  a  young  fellow 
from  Beloit,  Wis.,  going  to  Greenville, 
Mo."  "Well,  how  do  you  know  you  are 
going?"  I  said:  "I  don't  know  it.  I 
suppose  it  depends  on  you,  but  I  am 

120 


very  anxious  to  get  across."  He  said: 
"Well,  old  fellow,  are  you  loyal?"  "I 
am  sworn  not  to  put  anybody  across 
here  except  loyal  men,  and  I  would  get 
into  a  world  of  trouble  if  I  should  put 
a  rebel  across."  I  said:  "How  can  a 
man  be  otherwise  than  loyal  when  he 
comes  from  Beloit,  Wis.?  I  was  in  Chi- 
cago just  day  before  yesterday  and  I 
expect,  just  as  soon  as  I  get  back  home, 
to  join  the  army."  So  after  a  good  deal 
of  parley,  he  said :  "Well,  it  will  take 
one  dollar  in  advance,"  which  I  read- 
ily paid,  that  left  me  one  dollar  in 
my  pocket.  I  was  anxious  to  make  a 
good  impression  on  him  as  to  my  loyal- 
ty, so  I  said,  as  we  were  crossing:  "Is 
there  any  danger  of  my  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  rebels  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river?"  He  said:  "I  should  say, 
and  if  they  run  up  on  you  they  will  kill 
you  sure."  I  said:  "That  would  be 
awful.  I  think  maybe  I  can  walk  two 
miles  before  night;  tell  me  the  name  of 
some  loyal  man  out  a  little  piece,  where 
I  could  stay  all  night  and  be  safe."  He 
said :  "All  right  I'll  just  take  you  up  to 
the  man  and  introduce  you,  he  will  take 

121 


care  of  you."  I  saw  at  once  I  had  spo- 
ken one  word  too  many.  I  didn't  want 
to  be  introduced  to  anybody  by  that 
man,  especially  not  to  a  loyal  man.  How 
was  I  going  to  get  out  of  it  was  the 
question. 

Just  as  the  boat  landed  there  came  a 
number  of  men  down  the  bank,  curs- 
ing and  swearing  at  these  fellows.  Evi- 
dently they  had  formed  a  conspiracy  to 
whip  them  when  they  got  back.  Thev 
commenced  fighting  and  rolled  into  the 
edge  of  the  river  before  I  left.  When  I 
got  to  the  top  of  the  bank,  I  saw  all 
the  people  of  the  town  coming  my  way, 
evidently,  bent  on  seeing  the  fight.  I 
did  not  care  to  meet  them,  so  I  took  a 
path  running  right  down  by  the  river 
bank  and  walked  off  just  as  if  I  lived 
down  that  way.  I  have  no  idea  that 
there  was  a  man  in  the  crowd  that  couli 
have  remembered  seeing  me,  if  he  had 
been  sworn ;  they  were  so  intent  on  see- 
ing that  fight  they  had  no  eyes  for  any- 
thing else. 


122 


Chapter    Five 


Gets;  his  pistol  back;  Road  full  of  Yankees; 
Goes  forty  miles  one  day;  Such  a  man  as  I 
have  never  seen;  Not  a  prayer  meeting  man; 
Reaches  old  Uncle  McCullough's;  Like  one  in 
a  dream  ;  You  people  who  don't  believe  in 
prayer  ;  Mind  made  up  not  to  remain. 


WftH  STAYED  that  night  with  a 
man  who  lived  on  the  bank 
of  the  river,  and  found  out 
that  he  had  been  with  Jeff 
Tnompson,  the  Confederate  Caval- 
ry General,  but  had  been  caught 
and  made  to  take  the  oath  of 
allegience.  Such  men,  I  afterwards 
discovered,  were  called  "galvaniz- 
ed" men.  Before  I  left  the  house 
next  morning  I  was  treated  to  the  sight 
of  a  steamboat,  loaded  with  Federal  sol- 
diers, going  down  the  river.  They  were 
cheered  lustily  by  the  negroes,  but  the 
white  man  and  I  observed  them  in  si- 
lence.    Of  course,  I  told  him    nothing 

123 


about  my  intentions,  except  that  I  was 
going  to  Greenville,  Mo.  Thinking  it 
possible  that  it  might  be  difficult  to  get 
a  letter  back  to  my  friends  later  on,  I 
wanted  to  find  a  suitable  place  to  write. 
This  I  discovered  by  questioning  an  old 
negro.  He  said  he  belonged  to  "Marse 
John  Oliver.  Young  Marse  John  was 
with  Jeff  Thompson  and  Miss  Mary  was 
at  home."  I  concluded  I  could  confide 
in  the  mother  after  that  information, 
so  I  approached  the  house  and 
introduced  myself  to  the  lady,  telling 
her  that  I  was  going  South  and  wanted 
to  write  some  letters  back  to  my  friend:.;. 
She  kindly  showed  me  to  a  back  room 
and  gave  me  stationery.  I  wrote  to  my 
friends  in  Wisconsin,  begging  their 
pardon  for  deceiving  them,  and  asking 
them  to  redeem  my  pistol,  so  that  the 
man  at  Calumet  might  not  lose  any- 
thing.    This  they  did  and 

THREE   YEARS   AFTER   THEY    SENT   THE 
PISTOL  TO  ME, 

and  I  have  it  now  as  a  souvenir  of  those 
days. 

124 


The  lady  said :  "I  would  be  very  glad 
for  you  to  spend  the  afternoon  and 
night  with  us,  so  that  my  husband  might 
see  you;  but  it  would  be  dangerous  for 
you  and  for  us.  The  Home  Guards  are 
roaming  through  the  country  all  the 
time,  and  if  you  should  be  found  here, 
they  might  have  my  husband  arrested 
and  carried  off  to  prison,  on  the  charge 
of  harboring  a  rebel,  or  they  might 
burn  our  property  down.  There  is  no 
telling  what  they  would  do.  I  am  very 
uneasy  for  you,  lest  they  shall  meet  you 
and  kill  you."  These  Home  Guards,  as 
I  afterwards  found  out,  were  irrespon- 
sible soldiers,  most  of  them  Germans, 
who  were  but  little  more  than  maraud- 
ers, and  I  afterwards  found  that  we  had 
some  of  the  same  sort  among  the 
Confederates.  I  had  but  little  ap- 
prehension of  trouble,  as  I  was  to 
go  to  places  where  there  were 
Federal  garrisons.  I  went  through  the 
first  town  late  in  the  afternoon  with 
a  "galvanized"  man  whom  T  happened 
to  meet  just  before  reaching  the  village. 
I  saw  the  soldiers  all  around  on  the 
streets,  drinking  and  carousing.    A  lit- 

125 


tie  further  along,  I  spent  the  night  in 
a  home  where  an  old  gentleman  and  his 
family  were  living,  taking  care  of  the 
plantation  and  slaves  belonging  to  a 
young  man  who  was  with  Jeff  Thomp- 
son. Of  course  they  told  me  very  much 
about  the  war,  but  I  said  nothing  to 
them  further  than  that  I  was  going  to 
Greenville.  The  next  morning  when  I 
came  down  stairs,  I  found  the  girls  on 
the  back  veranda.  Being  of  a  confiding 
disposition,  especially  with  pretty  girls, 
I  told  them  in  a  few  words  that  I  was 
going  South  to  the  Confederate  Army. 
Just  then  breakfast  was  announced.  I 
sat  down  to  the  table  with  my  back  to- 
wards the  front  door,  and  the  girls  sat 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  in  full 
view  of  the  front  door  and  the  public 
road.  As  I  was  chatting  with  them, 
casting  sheep's  eyes  the  while.  I  no- 
ticed one  of  them  suddenly  change 
color,  as  she  gazed  intently  towards  the 
front  door,  and  she  remarked: 

"THE   ROAD    IS    FULL    OF   YANKEES." 

Immediately    the    frogs   leaped   into 
126 


my  throat,  and  I  was  wondering 
what  I  would  say  to  the  fellows 
when  they  came  in.  One  girl  bounded 
towards  the  door  and  stood  in  it.  It 
was  the  days  of  the  hoop-skirt  and  she 
just  about  filled  the  door,  so  that  nobody 
might  see  past  her.  The  other  girl  beg- 
ged me  to  run  up  stairs  and  hide,  which 
I  was  not  at  all  inclined  to  do.  The 
old  people  were  paralyzed,  because  they 
did  not  understand  it  at  all.  I  hastily 
informed  them  of  what  I  had  told  the 
girls.  That  is  one  time  I  didn't  know 
what  I  ate  for  breakfast.  It  might 
have  been  knives  and  forks  and  salt- 
cellars for  all  I  knew,  but  I  kept  eat- 
ing. The  girl  in  the  door  turned  her 
head  and  said :  "They  are  going  into 
the  lot."  The  old  gentlemen  said :  "I 
don't  reckon  they  are  coming  in  the 
house  at  all;  they  left  some  wounded 
horses  with  me  several  weeks  ago  and 
told  me  yesterday  they  were  going  to 
send  after  them."  It  was  a  great  re- 
lief to  hear  that,  but  I  could  not  under- 
stand why  a  whole  regiment  should 
have  to  come  after  a  few  horses.  Pres- 
ently the  girl  said :     "They  are  going 

127 


off,"  and  I  felt  a  pressure  removed, 
equal  to  five  hundred  bales  of  cotton.  I 
felt  as  light  as  a  feather  and  if  I  had 
had  wings,  I  certainly  would  have  used 
them. 

Each  of  these  two  nights,  I  spent 
twenty-five  cents,  and  that  carried  with 
it  a  lunch  for  the  next  day.  As  speedily 
as  possible  I  got  away  and 

WENT  FORTY-FIVE  MILES  THAT  DAY. 

Mind  you,  I  did  not  say  I  walked  it; 
when  I  was  dead  sure  nobody  saw  me,  I 
ran.  I  saw  very  few  people  that  day. 
The  Home  Guards  had  done  their  work 
well,  as  the  burned  houses  indicated  on 
every  side. 

Late  that  afternoon  I  was  told  that  I 
was  approaching  another  village,  but  I 
need  not  go  by  the  village  if  I  did  not 
wish  to;  I  could  turn  to  the  left  and 
cross  the  creek  lower  down,  and  both 
roads  led  to  Greenville.  I  had  no  bus- 
iness in  the  town,  so  I  took  the  left 
hand.  Just  before  night  I  came  to  a 
deep,  narrow,  ugly  looking  little  stream 
that  had  no  bridge  across  it.     Nobody 

128 


had  been  fording  it.  I  looked  in  vain 
for  a  log  on  which  to  cross.  I  didn't 
want  to  go  up  the  stream,  for  that  would 
carry  me  up  into  the  town.  I  found  a 
pole,  that  probably  nothing  but  a  squir- 
rel had  ever  crossed  on,  but  I  ventured 
to  straddle  it,  and  then  I  inched  myself 
across.  A  kodak  could  have  gotten  a 
picture  worth  while  then.  Getting  on 
the  other  side,  I  went  up  to  the  most 
desolate  looking  home  I  had  ever  seen. 
Not  a  sign  of  life,  except  now  and  then 
the  cackle  of  a  chicken  flying  to  the 
roost.  I  knocked  at  the  front  door  but 
no  response  coming,  like  a  tramp,  I 
went  around  to  the  kitchen.  There  was 
an  old  lady,  standing  before  a  great, 
old-fashioned  fire  place  cooking  supper. 
It  seemed  to  me  I  never  smelt  the  fry- 
ing of  bacon  that  was  so  delicious  in 
my  life.  I  said:  "I  am  traveling  and 
am  very  tired;  I  want  to  stay  all  night 
with  you,  please  ma'am."  She  invited  me 
in  saying:  "Sit  down  by  the  fire  here; 
when  my  son  comes,  maybe  he  will  let 
you  stay.  I  don't  know  whether  he  will 
or  not,  he  is  mighty  curios."  The 
kitchen  had  a  dirt  floor.  She  put    corn 

129 


bread  and  fried  meat  on  the  table  and 
invited  me  to  put  my  stool  up  to  the  ta- 
ble and  eat,  which  I  was  not  slow  to  do. 
Just  as  I  began  eating, 

THERE  CAME  IN  SUCH  A  MAN  AS  I  HAVE 
NEVER  SEEN  BEFORE  OR  SINCE 

I  judge  he  was  about  twenty-one 
or  twenty-two  years  old,  with  im- 
mense jaw  bones,  high  cheek  bones, 
just  a  little  space  between  his  eyebrows 
and  hair,  overhanging  eyebrows  and 
way-back  little  beady  eyes.  He  scowled 
at  me,  then  said  to  the  old  lady :  "Who's 
this  you've  got  here?"  I  looked  up  and 
said :  "Good  evening  sir,  your  mother 
was  kind  enough  to  invite  me  in.  I  want 
to  stay  all  night  with  you  and  I  hope 
you  can  accommodate  me."  He  took  his 
old  slouch  hat  off,  threw  it  on  the  floor, 
sat  down  and  went  to  eating.  Not  a  word 
passed.  That  is  another  time  I  don't 
know  what  I  ate.  I  eyed  him  and  he 
eyed  me,  but  I  mostly  eyed  the  grub. 
He  got  through  before  I  did,  picked  up 
his  hat  and  shot  out  the  door  without  a 
word.     He  had  been  gone  not  ten  min- 

130 


utes  when  the  biggest  rain  I  ever  heard, 
began  to  fall  and  I  judge  it  fell  through 
the  whole  night.  The  old  lady  showed 
me  to  a  bed  and  I  retired,  wondering 
whether  I  would  wake  up  dead  or  alive, 
feeling  pretty  certain  that  I  would  wake 
up  dead,  for  I  was  sure  that  boy  was 
bent  on  michief.  Next  morning,  I 
had  my  breakfast  by  candle-light, 
paid  the  old  lady  a  quarter,  and 
said  to  her :  "I  am  completely 
broken  down,  my  feet  are  blister- 
ed and  swollen,  I  could  hardly  get 
my  shoes  on  this  morning,  I  have  no 
money.  Is  there  anybody  living  near 
here,  on  whom  it  would  not  be  an  impo- 
sition, who  might  let  me  rest  until  Mon- 
day morning?"  The  reply  was:  "I 
have  a  son  about  three  miles  down  the 
road.  He  is  plenty  able  to  do  it  if  he 
would,  but  he  is  cwioser  than  that  boy 
you  saw  here  last  night."  When  I  got 
out  the  front  gate,  I  looked  down  on 
that  insignificant  little  old  creek,  and 
there  was  a  stream  of  water  big  enough 
to  float  the  navy  of  the  United  States. 
It  did  not  dawn  on  me  then,  but  later 
I  felt  sure  that  boy  crossed  the  creek 

131 


and  went  to  town  to  report  me  to  the 
Yankees  and  that  rain  and  overflow  pre- 
vented his  designs  from  being  carried 
out.  Doubtless  the  stream  remained  up 
the  greater  part  of  the  day.  I  trudged 
along,  dragging  my  feet  as  best  I  could, 
and  after  so  long  a  time,  reached  the 
home  of  this  "curiose?*"  son.  He  came 
out  and  stood  on  the  stoop  to  listen  to 
my  yarn  about  going  to  Greenville. 

HE  WAS  NOT  A  PRAYER-MEETING  MAN 

I  judged  from  his  language.  He  said: 
"Do  you  think  I  am  a  fool?  You  are 
nothing  but  a  little  old  rebel  or  some 
little  old  boy  going  to  the  rebels.  I 
hope  to  God  the  Home  Guards  will  find 
you  today  and  kill  you.  If  I  see  any 
of  them  I  am  going  to  put  them  on  your 
track."  Of  course  I  had  no  further  ar- 
gument with  that  man.  I  went  off  a  few 
hundred  yards,  felt  of  my  knees  to  see 
if  there  were  any  joints  there  or  not, 
for  up  to  that  time  I  had  not  discovered 
them  that  day.  How  mad  I  did  get!  I 
gritted  my  teeth,  shook  my  fist,  bowed 
my  neck,  and  shot  out,  going  thirty-five 
miles.    I  never  saw  a  soul  all  day. 

132 


The  remains  of  burned  homes  I  could 
see;  now  and  then  a  place  was  spared 
and  evidently  the  people  were  about,  but 
out  of  sight.  I  was  almost  in  despair  of 
reaching  a  place  to  spend  the  night, 
when  just  before  dark,  I  looked  down 
and  saw  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
sights  I  ever  beheld.  It  was  an  old 
country  home,  the  doors  wide  open,  good 
fires  burning,  the  negro  quarters 
stretching  out  and  fires  burning  bright- 
ly in  the  cabins.  I  heard  the  lowing  of 
cattle,  the  bleating  of  sheep,  the  cack- 
ling of  poultry,  all  indicating  a  place  of 
plenty.  I  found  it  to  be  an  old  lady'^ 
home,  whose  son  and  grand  son  had 
been  with  Jeff  Thompson  captured 
and  galvanized.  They  were  so  out- 
spoken, I  made  bold  that  night 
to  tell  them  who  I  was  and  where 
I  was  going.  They  said:  "It  is  im- 
possible for  you  to  go  any  further  un- 
til Caster  river  goes  down.  As  the  road 
runs,  it  crosses  the  river  three  time?,. 
There  is  a  possibility  of  your  going  far 
up  the  river  and  getting  a  "galvanized" 
man  to  put  you  across  in  a  boat,  and  at 
another  place  getting  a  widow  woman 

133 


to  send  you  across  on  horseback  and 
then 

REACHING    OLD    'UNCLE    MCCULLOUGH'S,' 

but  you  ought  not  to  undertake  it. 
Stay  with  us  until  Monday  morning  at 
least."  The  old  lady  did  not  hear  this 
conversation.  The  boys  were  off  early 
the  next  morning  to  their  work,  confi- 
dent that  I  was  going  to  remain.  I  con- 
cluded the  mother  ought  to  be  consulted, 
and  so  I  ventured  to  say,  as  she  was 
washing  the  dishes :  "The  boys  said 
that  it  would  be  all  right  for  me  to  re- 
main and  rest  here  until  Monday  morn- 
ing. I  suppose  it  will  be  all  right  with 
you?"  She  said  "y-e-s,  I  reckin  so."  I 
saw  at  once  that  I  was  not  welcome.  I 
thought  about  it  a  little  while  and  pres- 
ently returned  and  said :  "I  believe,  on 
reflection,  if  you  will  fix  me  up  a  lunch, 
I  will  go  on."  She  did  so  without  any 
protest.  "How  much  do  I  owe  you?"  I 
asked.  "Half  a  dollar,"  was  the  reply. 
It  was  the  first  time  anybody  suggested 
a  price  like  that  and  I  had  only  a  quar- 
ter left.  I  took  out  the  quarter  and  said : 

134 


"This  is  as  near  as  I  can  come  to  pay- 
ing it."  I  fully  expected  the  old  soul 
to  say  "keep  it,'  but,  bless  your  life,  she 
took  it,  saying:  "That's  lots  better 
than  a  heap  of  them  do ;  they  come  here 
and  bring  their  horses  and  spend  a 
week  and  don't  say  turkey  about  mon- 
ey." 

So  I  made  the  trip,  after  many  adven- 
tures, falling  into  the  overflow  a  time  or 
two,  and  reached  "Uncle  McCullough's" 
just  at  night  fall.  Providence  was 
leading  me,  I  believe.  Had  I  car- 
ried out  my  plans  to  remain  until  Mon- 
day morning,  that  stream  at  the  village 
would  have  gone  down  and  the  Yank- 
ees doubtless  would  have  found  me 
there,  then  I  would  have  been  done  for. 

So  much  for  my  antipathy  to  staying 
where  I  am  not  welcome.  It  served  me 
in  good  turn  on  that  occasion  as  it  has 
on  many  another. 

"Uncle  McCullough"  was  an  uncle  of 
Gen.  Ben  McCullough,  who  was  dis- 
tinguishing himself  at  this  time  as  a 
Confederate  General.  As  I  stood  in  the 
door  and  looked  at  the  old  patriarch, 

135 


standing  before  a  large  fire,  in  an  old- 
fashioned  fireplace, 

I  FELT  LIKE  ONE  IN  A  DREAM. 

He  was  the  same  height  and  same 
complexion  as  my  own  uncle,  Rich- 
ard Bryan,  with  whom  I  had  lived  when 
a  boy  at  Pleasant  Hill  in  Dallas  county. 
The  similarity  of  the  house,  the  cedar 
trees  in  front  and  the  further  coinci- 
dence of  both  being  class-leaders  in  the 
Methodist  church — I  was  almost  dazed 
that  night  as  I  thought  about  it.  I  said 
to  the  old  gentleman :  "I  am  traveling,  I 
have  no  money,  and  I  want  to  stay  all 
night,  please  sir."  The  response  from 
his  old  warm  heart  came  immediately: 
"Why  come  in,  my  son,  of  course  you 
can  stay  all  night,  money  don't  make 
any  difference  here.  You  seem  to  be 
wet,  you  must  have  some  dry 
clothes,"  with  that  he  took  me  into 
another  room  and  dressed  me  up 
in  his  best,  wrung  out  my  clothes 
and  hung  them  before  the  fire  to  dry. 
He  took  me  into  a  kitchen,  with  a  dirt 
floor,  identical     with     "Uncle     Dick's" 

136 


home  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  introduced 
me  to  a  dear  old  soul  who  was  the  very 
image  of  old  "Aunt  Nancy."  After  sup- 
per I  opened  my  heart  to  him :  "I  have 
been  saying  I  was  going  to  Greenville. 
I  don't  know  anything  about  Greenville, 
or  care  anything  about  it;  I  want  to  go 
South  and  join  the  Confederate  army/' 
The  old  man  said:  "Well,  my  son,  you 
are  dangerously  near  Greenville,  only 
twelve  miles ;  the  Yankees  were  out  here 
today  and  may  be  out  here  tonight.  I 
don't  know  what  I  will  do  with  you.  It 
is  too  cold  for  you  to  go  out  to  the 
fodder-loft,  so  I  am  going  to  put  you  in 
bed  and  pray  the  Lord  to  protect  you." 

YOU  PEOPLE,  WHO  DON'T  BELIEVE  IN 
PRAYER : 

The  boy  I  am  telling  you  about  was 
not  very  religious,  but  when  the  old 
patriarch  told  him  he  was  going  to  pray 
for  him,  when  he  lay  clown  on  that  bed, 
he  felt  as  secure  as  if  an  army  of  sol- 
diers had  been  around  him. 

We  ate  breakfast  by  candle-light,  and 
just  about  sun-up  we  were  climbing  the 

137 


hill  back  of  his  garden.  When  I  reach- 
ed the  top,  I  saw  stretched  out  for 
miles  Caster  river  bottom,  overflowing 
everything.  The  old  man  said:  "Now, 
my  son,  you  will  see  nobody  today.  You 
will  find  no  road,  except  this  path.  You 
follow  this  trail  right  down  this  ridge 
and  you  will  come  to  Ira  Abernathy's. 
There  you  will  have  to  stop.  It  is  folly 
to  try  to  go  any  further  until  the  over- 
flow goes  down.  Nobody  will  ever  find 
you  there.  Ira  is  a  good  Methodist;  he 
has  been  galvanized.  You  tell  him  that 
Uncle  McCullough  sent  you  there  and 
said  for  him  to  take  care  of  you  until 
the  river  goes  down,  it  will  be  all  right." 
I  sauntered  along  that  day,  one  of  the 
prettiest  Sundays  I  ever  saw.  Deer, 
turkeys  and  squirrels  were  seen  on 
every  side.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  I 
reached  the  end  of  my  journey  and  de- 
livered "Uncle  McCullough's"  message. 
When  I  was  through,  I  saw  a  face  that 
reminded  me  exactly  of  the  faces  of 
those  Alabamians  in  Chicago  at  Camp 
Douglas.  I  saw  through  it  instantly. 
Ira  had  conscientious  regard  for  his 
oath.     If  he  kept  me  there  and  it  was 

138 


found  out,  it  would  go  hard  with  him. 
Before  I  went  to  bed,  my 

MIND  WAS  MADE  UP  NOT  TO  REMAIN. 

I  found  out  from  him  it  was 
fourteen  miles  to  Bloomfield  where 
the  Confederates  were,  about  nine 
miles  was  overflowed,  that  the  depth 
would  not  be  above  my  waist,  ex- 
cept at  the  last.  Duck  Creek  was  deep 
and  dangrous,  that  I  would  pass  only 
one  house  and  that  was  just  before  I 
reached  Duck  creek. 

So  next  morning  I  started,  and  in 
five  minutes  I  was  knee  deep  in  water. 
I  could  tell  the  way  the  road  ran  by 
watching  the  trees,  so  I  kept  just  on 
the  outside  of  the  edge  in  the  woods. 
Before  a  great  while  I  came  to  a  slough 
which  seemed  to  be  dangerous,  and  on 
sounding  it  I  found  that  here  was  one 
place  that  my  friend  had  certainly  for- 
gotten ;  it  was  very  much  over  my  head. 
I  turned  to  find  a  log  to  cross  it,  which 
I  successfully  walked,  but  on  going  out 
on  the  other  side  on  a  limb,  the  limb 
broke  and  I  fell  into  the  water.     Re- 

130 


member  this  was  March,  and  it  was  in 
Missouri,  and  you  can  imagine  that  I 
was  not  very  comfortable.  You  can  see 
something  of  the  happy-go-lucky  boy, 
when  I  tell  you  that  out  there,  half  a 
mile  from  the  road,  wet  as  a  drowned 
rat  and  water  all  around  me,  I  took  out 
my  knife  and  stood  for  half  an  hour  by 
the  side  of  a  smooth  beech  tree,  and 
carved  my  name:  "W.  B.  Crumpton, 
Pleasant  Hill,  Ala."  It  is  there  to  this 
day,  if  the  forests  have  not  been  de- 
stroyed. 

I  waded  along  throughout  the  day  and 
late  that  afternoon  I  passed  the  house 
on  my  right,  the  only  dry  land  I  had 
seen.  Beyond  the  house  a  slough  ran  up 
from  the  overflow  into  a  corn  field.  The 
fence  was  built  up  to  each  end  of  a  log 
across  the  slough  and  rails  were  stuck 
in  above  the  logs  as  a  sort  of  water 
fence.  Behind  these  rails  on  the  log  I 
was  making  my  way  across,  when  I 
heard  a  corn  stalk  crack  over  in  the  field. 
Looking  in  that  direction  I  saw  a  Yank- 
ee, in  full  uniform,  with  a  gun  on  his 
shoulder.  How  those  frogs  did  leap  in- 
to my  throat.     What  was  I  to  do?  I 

140 


did  not  dare  to  dodge;  in  that  case,  I 
could  never  have  explained  it  if  he  had 
seen  me.  If  I  should  go  on  the  road,  he 
would  probably  see  me,  so  I  eased  my- 
self off  the  end  of  the  log  and  walked 
straight  aivay  from  him  into  the  over- 
flow,  I  had  no  idea  where  I  was  going, 
only  I  knew  I  was  going  away  from 
him.  I  was  feeling  for  bullets  in  my 
back  all  the  time,  but  I  am  sure  that  he 
did  not  see  me.  If  he  had,  he  would 
have  killed  me  and  have  thrown  my 
body  in  the  creek.  Now  see  how  Provi- 
dence leads!  If  I  had  followed  the  road 
and  escaped  his  eye,  I  would  have  come 
to  the  creek,  with  no  possible  chance  of 
crossing.  Naturally  I  would  have  turn- 
ed up  the  creek,  never  would  have 
dreamed  of  going  down  into  the  over- 
flow. As  it  turned  out,  I  came  to  a 
raft  just  in  the  creek.  It  had  broken 
loose,  I  suppose,  from  a  mill  above  and 
had  lodged  there.  By  wading  in,  waist 
deep,  I  climbed  on  it,  but  found  I  was 
still  some  distance  from  the  bank  on 
the  other  side.  I  had  not  looked  around 
since  I  left  the  Yankee,  so  standing  on 
the  raft  I  eased  myself  around  and  saw 

141 


no  one.  When  I  measured  the  water  on 
the  other  side  I  found  it  too  deep  for  me 
to  wade  and  I  couldn't  swim  a  lick.  I 
reached  around  in  the  water,  got  hold  of 
a  loose  sassafras  pole,  floated  it  around, 
stuck  it  in  the  bank  on  the  other  side, 
and  undertook  to  walk  it  and  it  partial- 
ly under  water.  Of  course  it  wobbled; 
I  went  down  head  and  ears.  Coming  up 
fortunately  I  grasped  my  bundle  in  one 
hand  and  my  cap  in  the  other,  and 
found  myself  chin  deep  in  the  water.  I 
waded  out  on  the  other  side,  which 
seemed  to  me  "the  bank  of  sweet  deliv- 
erance." I  had  been  told  that  I  would 
be  on  the  side  of  the  Confederates  when 
I  got  there.  I  walked  briskly  up  to  the 
top  of  the  hill  and  looked  around  to 
see  if  there  were  any  signs  of  camp- 
fires  anywhere,  indicating  the  presence 
of  the  Yankee  forces.  I  supposed  that 
the  man  I  saw  in  the  bottom  was  on 
picket.  Seeing  no  signs  of  camp,  I  shot 
down  the  hill  as  fast  as  I  could  run.  An 
old  man  seeing  me  shouted:  "Hello, 
there."  I  replied:  "Hello,  yourself." 
He  said :  "Stop  and  give  me  the  news." 
I  said :     "I  have  no  news."     He  yelled 

142 


again:  "Have  you  seed  any  soldiers." 
I  replied :  "Yes,  I  saw  one  back  there 
in  the  river  bottom."  He  said :  "Yes, 
that's  Ike  Reader,  I  heard  he  was  home 
'tother  day;  but  stop  and  give  me  some 
news."  I  said:  "No,  I  haven't  time," 
and  on  I  rushed.  I  won't  say  I  went  the 
remaining  five  miles  in  three-quarters 
of  an  hour,  but  I  went  it  in  a  very  short 
time.  The  idea  of  being  caught  almost 
within  sight  of  the  rebel  lines  possessed 
me  and  it  put  wings  on  my  feet.  When 
I  reached  the  borders  of  the  village  just 
about  night  fall,  there  was  a  man  stand- 
ing, as  if  he  were  waiting  for  me,  and 
when  I  told  him  my  story,  he  said: 
"Come  right  along  up  to  Capt.  Miller's 
home,  and  you  will  be  welcome."  I 
found  that  the  Captain  owned  a 
steamboat  on  the  St.  Francis  river,  and 
I  guess  I  could  have  gotten  passage  if 
I  had  asked  for  it,  but  I  never  thought 
of  it.  I  was  given  dry  clothes,  treated 
most  tenderly,  and  the  next  morning  at 
breakfast  was  told  that  the  rebel  scouts 
were  in  town. 


143 


Chapter    Six 


Released  on  parole;  On  the  lookout;  Reaches 
Helena,  Ark.;  Aboard  the  steamer;  Black  cof- 
fee; Reaches  Vicksburg;  Finds  one  man  who 
believes  him;  In  ten  miles  of  Newton;  On  the 
Mobile  and  Ohio;  More  trouble;  Reaches  home. 

<£><£>£*)&  HAT  was  the  best  news  I 
had  ever  heard.  The  Cap- 
tain accompanied  me  to 
the  front  door  and  said: 
"You  can  go  out  of  the  front  gate  there, 
or  you  can  take  this  path  and  go  through 
the  grove.  I  looked  down  the  path  and 
saw  the  scouts  passing  the  gap,  and  just 
as  I  got  to  the  gap  all  of  them  had 
passed  except  one.  I  said  to  him:  "I 
saw  a  Yankee  in  the  river  bottom  yes- 
terday." He  said :  "Do  you  know  who 
he  was?"     I  said:     "No,  but  I  might 

145 


know  the  name,  if  I  heard  it."  He 
said:  "Was  it  Ike  Reader?"  "I  said: 
"Yes,  that  was  the  name  I  heard  a  man 
call."  So  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and 
went  to  the  head  of  the  column  shout- 
ing as  he  went :  "Old  Ike  Reader  is  at 
home."  I  judge  they  had  heard  that  he 
was  home  on  furlough  and  were  going 
after  him. 

Twenty-four  miles  wasn't  much  of  a 
walk  so  I  sauntered  along  through  the 
day  and  just  at  dark  came  up 
to  the  pickets.  They  were  raw  re- 
cruits, whom  I  suppose  had  never 
known  duty  before.  They  had  stacked 
their  guns  and  built  a  fire  and  were  out 
in  the  woods  gathering  wood  to  burn 
through  the  night.  They  were  fright- 
ened nearly  to  death.  I  could  have  cap- 
tured them  without  any  difficulty.  I 
told  them  they  were  the  fellows  I  was 
hunting  for  and  that  I  wanted  to  sur- 
render. Three  of  them  took  me  back 
about  a  mile  and  let  me  go  to  bed,  while 
they  sat  up  and  watched  me  all  night. 

RELEASED   ON   PAROLE. 

Next  morning  they  carried  me  back  sev- 
146 


eral  miles  to  the  company  of  Capt.  Hun- 
ter. I  found  him  to  be  an  old  veteran  of 
Mexican  war.  He  had  recruited  a  com- 
pany and  was  up  there  in  Stoddard 
County  drilling  them  and  enlisting 
other  men  before  going  South.  When 
I  told  him  my  story,  he  said:  "I  will 
release  you  on  parole  of  honor,  that  you 
will  not  leave  the  camp.  You  will  be 
safer  with  us  than  traveling  alone.  In 
a  little  while  we  will  g"o  down  Ahe  river 
to  Helena,  Ark.  That  will  be  right  on 
your  road.  I  will  take  you  in  my  mess 
and  you  will  be  treated  right."  Such 
kindness  on  the  part  of  a  perfect  stran- 
ger, under  the  circumstances,  was  un- 
usual and  greatly  encouraging  to  me. 
The  next  afternoon  the  scouts  came 
along  with  their  man.  They  had  found 
him  at  home.  He  was  there  on  a  fur- 
lough. I  saw  their  Captain  and  ours 
talking  very  animatedly  for  probably 
thirty  minutes  and  as  he  rode  off, 
he  said:  "He  is  mine  by  rights,  and  I 
am  going  to  have  him."  When  he  was 
gone  the  Captain  took  me  into  his  tent 
and  asked  me  if  I  had  met  those  scouts. 
I  related  to  him  the  circumstance  of  my 


147 


going  through  the  grove  at  Bloomfield, 
rather  than  through  the  front  gate, 
which  would  have  caused  me  to  meet 
the  head  of  the  column.  I  did  it  only 
from  convenience,  not  from  any  fears 
that  I  had.  He  replied :  "You  certainly 
were  fortunate  in  going  through  that 
grove.  The  Captain  of  that  Company  is 
nothing  more  than  a  marauder,  although 
he  wears  the  Confederate  uniform.  It 
is  his  custom,  when  he  meets  a  civilian 
anywhere,  to  kill  him,  but  he  will  take 
a  Federal  soldier  prisoner.  I  will  not 
ask  you  to  enlist  with  us,  but  you  be 
just  as  one  of  our  soldiers.  Have  you 
a  gun  ready  at  hand  with  ammunition 
and  whenever  you  see  those  scouts, 
don't  expose  yourself.  We  will  pass 
and  repass  them  on  the  trip  south,  no 
doubt,  and  he  is  mean  enough  to  shoot 
you  down.  We  are  going  to  protect 
you."  That  the  Captain  was  not  mis- 
taken in  the  man,  I  soon  discovered.  We 
saw  a  suttler  pass  our  camp  one  day, 
and  just  a  little  later  saw  this  Captain 
with  his  scouts  going  in  the  same  di- 
rection. It  was  not  a  great  while  be- 
fore we  heard  pistol  shots  and  present- 

148 


ly  they  came  back  and  our  men  learned 
from  them  that  the  Captain  had  taken 
the  suttler  out  into  the  woods  and  shot 
him,  leaving  his  wagon  standing  in  the 
road.  He  was  a  harmless  fellow  who 
was  gathering  up  chickens  and  eggs 
and  butter,  and  selling  them  wherever 
he  could,  sometime  to  the  Federals  and 
sometimes  to  the  Confederates. 

ON  THE  LOOKOUT. 

You  may  be  sure  I  was  on  the  look- 
out. The  number  of  Yankees  that  they 
had  as  prisoners  increased  to  probably 
twenty-five.  When  the  companies  as- 
sembled to  start  South  under  General 
Thompson,  sometimes  these  scouts  were 
ahead  and  sometimes  in  the  rear.  They 
passed  and  repassed  us.  Word  went 
down  the  line  whenever  they  were  ap- 
proaching, "Crump,  look-out"  and  I 
was  always  ready.  The  old  Yankee  soon 
found  out  that  I  was  the  man  who  had 
told  on  him  and  learned  my  name  and 
he  would  shout  when  he  came  in  sight 
of  me,  "Hello,  Crump,"  and  I  would  re- 
ply, "Hello,  Ike."     The  first  service  I 

149 


did  after  joining  the  Confederate  army 
at  Columbus,  Miss.,  was  to  guard  the 
Federal  prisoners,  and  who  should  I 
find  there  but  old  Ike  Reader. 

REACHES  HELENA,  ARK. 

It  was  several  weeks  before  we 
reached  Helena,  Ark.  There  I  ate 
breakfast  with  the  boys,  the  morn- 
ing before  they  went  up  the  riv- 
er. I  could  have  secured  rations 
if  I  had  thought  of  it.  I  learned  after- 
wards a  soldier  was  satisfied  so  long  as 
his  stomach  was  full.  I  went  to  see 
Gen.  Thompson,  however,  and  got  from 
him  a  paper,  stating  that  I  had  come  to 
them  up  in  Missouri,  that  I  was  on  my 
way  to  my  friends  in  Mississippi,  and 
commending  me  to  people  wherever  I 
went.  I  could  have  gotten  transporta- 
tion from  him  if  I  had  thought  of  it,  but 
never  dreamed  that  I  could  be  hungry 
again  or  ever  have  need  to  ride  any- 
more. I  remained  all  that  day  and 
night,  sleeping  on  the  wharf  boat,  and 
the  next  day,  without  anything  to  eat. 
I  did  not  have  the  courage  to  beg.  That 

150 


was  the  only  quality  of  the  tramp  that 
I  had  not  learned. 

BOARDED  THE  STEAMER. 

About  2  o'clock  I  went  to  the  hotel 
intending  to  ask  for  dinner.  While  I 
was  sitting  there,  trying  to  work  up 
courage  enough  to  approach  the  clerk,  I 
heard  a  boat  coming  down  and  hastened 
away  and  boarded  the  steamer,  H.  D. 
Mears.  As  she  was  pulling  off,  I  ap- 
proached the  Captain  and  showed  him 
my  paper  from  Gen.  Thompson.  He 
made  the  atmosphere  blue  witn  profan- 
ity. He  said  it  was  simply  absurd,  that 
I  had  forged  that  paper,  that  Gen. 
Thompson  would  not  have  given  me 
that  paper  without  giving  me  transpor- 
tation too,  he  almost  made  me  believe 
he  was  right.  It  did  seem  absurd.  Then 
I  asked  him  to  credit  me  with  my  trans- 
portation to  Vicksburg,  to  give  me  the 
address  of  some  one  to  whom  I  might 
send  the  money.  He  repliea,  "I  would 
not  credit  my  grand-mammy." 

The  river  was  high  and  boats  could 
not  approach  land.  Seeing  a  skiff  coming 

151 


over  from  the  Arkansas  side,  from 
where  a  landing  was  supposed  to  be, 
thinking  that  he  was  going  to  put  me 
off,  1  approached  him  and  asked  that 
he  put  me  off  on  the  Mississippi  side,  as 
I  was  afoot.  His  reply  was,  "I  am  not 
going  to  put  you  off;  you  can  ride  as 

far  as  you  want  to  ride,  to if  you 

want  to."  I  felt  that  he  was  very  much 
more  likely  to  go  there  than  I.  I  told 
him  I  had  asked  for  nothing  except  the 
privilege  to  ride. 

TAKES  FEVER. 

He  replied:  "How  are  you  going  to  get 
any  grub?"  I  answered  that  I  did  not 
know.  I  was  too  independent  to  let  him 
know  that  I  needed  some  just  at  that 
time.  Being  exposed  to  the  weather 
and  drinking  Mississippi  water  and  do- 
ing without  food  brought  on  fever, 
which  I  had  all  the  night.  The  next 
morning  I  was  in  a  desperate  condi- 
tion. The  desire  for  food  had  given 
place  to  a  feeling  that  I'd  as  soon  die  as 
not.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  I  began  to 
feel  a  delirium  stealing    over    me.     It 

152 


seemed  all  like  a  dream  to  me ;  could  not 
tell  where  I  was.  I  knew  it  was  for 
the  want  of  something  to  eat.  I  had 
sense  enough  left  to  know  that  the 
kitchen  was  the  place  to  find  relief,  so 
I  found  my  way  to  the  door,  and  stood 
there  looking  into  the  face  of  the  old 
negro  man,  a  perfect  giant  in  appear- 
ance. I  said :  "Uncle,  I  am  on  this  boat 
without  a  cent  of  money,  and  haven't 
had  anything  to  eat  for  three  days;  I 
am  sick  and  about  to  die."  He  looked 
me  all  over  from  head  to  foot,  then  put 
a  stool  up  to  the  table  and  said  in  a 
commanding  tone:  "Set  down  there." 

BLACK   COFFEE. 

I  wasn't  used  to  being  ordered  about  by 
negroes  that  way,  but  I  took  no  offense 
on  that  occasion.  He  filled  a  quart  cup 
with  the  blackest  coffee  I  ever  saw,  put 
three  tablespoonsful  of  sugar  into  it, 
stirred  it  and  sat  it  before  me  and  said : 
"Drink  that."  I  guess  he  must  have 
seen  cases  like  mine  before.  I  com- 
menced to  sip  the  coffee,  for  it  was  too 
hot  to  drink.    I  shall  never  forget  that 

153 


cup  of  coffee  while  I  live.  The  very 
first  sip  seemed  to  go  to  the  ends  of  my 
fingers  and  toes;  it  thrilled  me  through 
and  through.  As  I  drank  I  could  nol 
restrain  my  tears.  When  I  was  through, 
in  about  half  an  hour,  I  was  in  a  pro- 
fuse perspiration.  I  looked  at  the  three 
large  pieces  of  steak,  as  big  as  my  hand 
and  four  hot  rolls,  and  said :  "Uncle,  if 
I  should  eat  that  meat,  I  am  sure  1 
would  die  in  half  an  hour.  If  you  have 
no  objections,  I  will  put  it  in  my  over- 
coat pocket  and  eat  it  at  my  leisure." 
He  said:  "That  is  just  the  thing  foi 
you  to  do."  Thanking  him,  I  departed, 
and  commenced  reaching  in  my  pocket, 
pulling  off  pieces  of  steak,  chewing  it 
and  swallowing  the  juice.  I  "chawed" 
all  night,  in  my  waking  moments.  When 
I  went  to  sleep,  I  was  chewing  that 
meat.  At  sun  rise  the  next  morning,  I 
found  myself  at  Vicksburg,  with  no  fe- 
ver and  as  hungry  as  a  wolf.  I  went 
out  like  Pat,  "in  quest  of  a  breakfast, 
for  me  appetite."  I  was  determined  nev- 
er to  speak  to  another  man.  I  was  like 
that  fellow  who  said,  "the  more  he 
knew  about  men,  the  better    he     liked 

154 


dogs."  So  many  of  them  did  not  believe 
my  story  and  took  it  out  in  cursing 
that  I  was  thoroughly  disgusted  with 
them.  Seeing  the  sign :  "Mrs.  Roebeck- 
er,  Private  Boarding,"  I  took  a  seat  in 
an  old  store  nearby  and  watched  the 
door  until  all  the  boarders  came  out. 
How  like  a  tramp !  I  approach- 
ed the  door  and  was  received  very 
graciously  by  the  kind  lady,  who 
gave  me  a  good  breakfast.  When 
she  asked  me  how  I  was  going  to  get 
home,  I  replied,  "I  am  going  to 
walk."  She  protested,  "No,  don't  do 
anything  of  the  kind.  Go  up  and  see 
Mr.  ,  the  superin- 
tendent of  the  railroad.  He  is  a 
kind,  nice  gentleman,  and  I  am  sure 
he  will  help  you  on  your  way.'  I 
plucked  up  courage  enough  to  speak  to 
the  Superintendent,  and  found  him  just 
as  the  lady  said,  a  perfect  gentleman. 

FINDS   ONE    MAN   WHO   BELIEVED   HIM. 

He  said :  "Of  course,  my  son ;  I  will  give 
you  a  ticket,  sign  this  due  bill,  and  we 
will  send  it  over  to  our  agent,  Dr.  Watts 

155 


at  Newton  Station,  and  your  people  can 
pay  it  after  you  get  home."  I  shall 
never  forget  his  kindly  expression,  and 
the  effect  it  had  on  me.  My  tears  are 
not  usually  very  shallow,  but  kindness 
always  humbled  me  and  brought  out 
the  tears.  I  got  aboard  the  train  and 
in  a  little  while  fell  asleep.  I  slept  all 
the  afternoon.  Don't  remember  pass- 
ing Brandon  or  Jackson  or  any  place. 

IN  TEN  MILES  OP  NEWTON. 

About  ten  o'clock  at  night  some  scldiers 
came  on  the  crowded  train.  One  took 
a  seat  in  the  aisle  on  his  knap-sack 
right  by  me.  I  said,  "How  far  is  it  to 
Newton?"  He  said,  "Ten  miles."  Af- 
ter a  while  I  heard  the  brakeman  call 
out  "Chunky  Station."  I  said:  "How 
far  is  it  from  Newton  now?"  He  said, 
"Why,  fellow,  it  is  twenty  miles,  you 
have  passed  Newton."  By  the  time  I 
got  myself  together,  the  train  was  un- 
der way  again,  so  I  remained  seated  un- 
til I  got  to  Meridian.  I  remembered 
that  Meridian  was  just  above  Enter- 
prise, and  there  I  knew  one  man.    See- 

156 


ing  a  train  on  the  M.  &  0.  just  ready 
to  start  for  Mobile,  I  made  a  rush  and 
got  aboard  and  took  my  seat  among  a 
lot  of  soldiers.  Presently  the  conductor 
came  in  with  his  lantern,  calling,  "tick- 
ets," and 

MY  TROUBLES  BEGAN  AGAIN. 

I  showed  him  my  paper  from  General 
Thompson,  and  said  to  him :  "You  know 
Mr.  Edmondson,  who  keeps  the  hotel  at 
Enterprise,  I  hired  a  horse  and  buggy 
from  him  two  years  ago  to  go  out  to 
Garlandsville.  I  am  sure  I  can  get  the 
money  and  leave  it  anywhere  you  say, 
if  you  will  let  me  pass  on."  He  was 
another  man  that  did  not  attend  prayer 
meeting.  He  said,  "No,  sir,  Edmondson 
is  dead,  you  are  lying  anyhow  and  now 
get  off  at  the  wood  station."  There  was 
a  Sergeant  on  board,  in  charge  of  some 
soldiers,  who  took  an  interest  in  me. 
He  said:  "Captain,  I  have  more  trans- 
portation than  I  have  men ;  let  this  man 
go  on  my  transportation."  He  said :  "No 
sir,  he  has  got  to  get  off.  He  is  spin- 
ning a  yarn.    Who  ever  heard  of  a  man 

157 


coming  back  from  California  without 
money."  So  I  got  off,  and  when  the 
train  started,  I  stepped  up  on  the  back- 
platform.  It  was  only  a  little  while  be- 
fore we  reached  Enterprise.  I  saw  the 
conductor  standing  on  the  platform, 
with  his  lantern,  and  I  walked  boldly 
by  him.  He  easily  detected  me,  as  I  had 
on  a  fur  cap,  very  uncommon  in  the 
South,  He  said :  "Are  you  ready  to  pay 
me,  sir?"  I  replied:  "No."  He  said:  "If 
you  are  a  gentleman,  you  will  do  as  you 
said  you  would  do.  Leave  that  money 
here  with  Mr.  Jackson,  who  keeps  the 
eating  house,"  I  said :  "I  am  not  a 
gentleman  now  since  you  made  me  steal 
a  ride,  gentlemen  don't  do  that  way." 

THEN  HE  COMMENCED  CURSING. 

I  threw  myself  back  with  my  thumbs 
under  my  arms  and  said :  "Now,  blaze 
away  and  when  you  think  you  have 
cursed  out  the  value  of  your  ticket,  let 
me  know  and  I  will  pass  on."  That  was 
about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Pres- 
ently the  engineer  rang  his  bell  and  the 
Captain  jumped  on,  shaking  his  fist  at 

158 


me  as  the  train  pulled  out.  I  responded 
by  shaking  both  my  fists  at  him.  That  is 
my  way  of  keeping  out  of  a  row  with 
a  conductor,  wait  until  he  gets  off.  Of 
course  I  was  very  mad  while  he  was 
cursing,  but  I  was  in  no  condition  to 
fight. 

I  went  to  the  hotel  and  registered  my 
name  like  a  gentleman :  "W.  B.  Crump- 
ton,  San  Francisco,  Cal."  When  I  awoke 
the  next  morning,  and  looked  into 
a  glass,  for  the  first  time  in  six 
weeks,  I  was  like  Pat,  when  he  said : 
"Pat,  is  this  you,  or  is  it  somebody 
else?"  I  had  been  over  the  camp-fires 
and  my  face  was  smoked  and  greasy, 
and  I  looked  more  like  a  negro  than  a 
white  man.  By  diligent  use  of  soap  and 
water,  I  got  myself  clean  down  to  my 
collar.  I  had  an  old  woolen  comforter, 
that  I  had  worn  around  my  neck.  I 
turned  it  wrong  side  out,  pinned  it 
close  around  my  throat,  spread  it  over 
the  front  of  my  dirty  shirt,  buttoned 
my  coat  and,  imagine  I  made  a  right 
decent  appearance.  I  took  my  seat  at 
the  table,  crowded  with  people.    I  have 

159 


no  recollection  when  anybody  got  up.  I 
came  to  myself  after  a  while,  when  I 
asked  for  another  biscuit,  I  looked  at 
the  negroes,  whose  eyes  were  almost 
popping  out,  and  I  realized  that  I  was 
the  only  one  at  the  table.  I  looked  at 
the  astonished  lady  at  the  end  of  the 
room  and  stammered  out:  "Is  this  Mrs. 
Edmondson?  Excuse  me  please,  I  am 
nearly  starved."  She  insisted  on  my 
eating  more,  but  I  didn't  have  the  face 
to  do  it.  I  said:  "Mrs.  Edmondson,  do 
you  remember  a  boy  coming  here  two 
years  ago  and  hiring  a  horse  and  buggy 
to  go  out  to  Garlandsville?  She  said: 
"Yes,  I  remember  you  well."  I  told  her 
my  story,  "and  asked  her  to  credit  me 
until  my  people  could  send  her  the 
money,  to  which  she  readily  consented. 

REACHES  HOME. 

I  journeyed  on  for  twenty-four  miles 
and  late  that  afternoon  came  to  my 
brother-in-law's  home.  They  were  all 
looking  for  me.  I  had  separated  at 
Panama  with  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Simpson,  who  had  been  a  commission 

160 


merchant  in  Mobile,  and  I  had  given  him 
a  letter.  He  went  across  to  Aspenwall, 
thence  to  Havana,  and  ran  the  block- 
ade into  Mobile.  I  had  discussed  doing 
that  with  my  brother  before  I  left  San 
Francisco,  but  he  advised  very  much 
against  it. 

I  started  from  Beloit  the  6th  of 
March  and  reached  home  on  the  23rd  of 
April,  traveling  probably  a  thousand  or 
twelve  hundred  miles,  much  of  it  on 
foot.  As  I  spun  my  yarn  that  night 
around  the  fire-side,  my  sister  said, 
"Brother,  why  didn't  you  ask  Mrs.  Ed- 
mondson  to  send  you  out  in  a  buggy?" 
I  said,  "Bless  my  life,  I  never  thought 
of  it  until  you  mentioned  it."  I  had  got- 
ten so  used  to  traveling  afoot,  it  made 
no  difference. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  found  a  re- 
cruiting officer,  Lieutenant  John  Mc- 
intosh, and  gave  him  my  name.  At  the 
appointed  time,  I  took  the  train  at  New- 
ton for  Columbus,  Miss.,  where  on  May 
1862,  I  joined  Company  H.,  of  the 
37th  Mississippi  Infantry.  I  had  a 
mind  to  join  an  Alabama  regiment,  but 
my  people  insisted  on  my  enlisting  in 

161 


a  Mississippi  Regiment,  so  that 
they  might  more  easily  hear  from 
me.  The  Lieutenant  promised  me 
a  thirty  days  furlough  to  visit  my 
Alabama  kin  as  soon  as  I  was 
enlisted  at  Columbus.  After  I  had  signed 
my  name,  he  said,  "Wash,  do  you  want 
your  furlough  now?"  I  said,  "No,  you 
might  get  m  a  battle  while  I  was  gone, 
or  the  war  might  be  over  before  I  re- 
turned, so  I  will  not  take  it."  That 
furlough  never  came,  except  on  two  or 
three  occasions  afterwards,  when  I  was 
wounded.  Some  day  I  may  take  the 
time  to  write  out  another  story  about, 
"What  the  boy  saw  after  he  got  through 
the  lines  to  the  Confederacy,"  you  may 
depend  upon  it,  he  saw  sights.  I  was 
one  of  two  or  three  in  my  regiment  who 
could  sing.  Many  a  night,  sitting  around 
the  Camp  Fires,  the  weary  hours  were 
passed  by  singing  Camp  songs.  Only 
two  of  these  do  I  remember  now. 

"GOOBER  PEAS" 

was  one  of  the  most  popular.  It  ran 
about  this  way: 


162 


"GOOBER  PEAS." 

Sitting  by  the  roadside  on  a  pleasant  day 

Chatting  with  my  mess-mates,  whiling  time 
away 

Chatting  with  my  mess-mates  wholly  at  my 
ease 

Good  gracious !  how  delicious ;  eating  Goober- 
peas. 

When  a  horseman  passes,  the  Soldiers  have  a 
rule 

To  cry  out  at  their  loudest:  "Mister,  here's 
your  mule," 

But  another  pleasure  enchantinger  than  these 

Is  wearing  out  your  jaw-teeth  eating  Goober- 
peas. 

Just  before  a  battle  the  General  has  a  row, 
He  says:  "The  Yanks  are  coming,  I  hear  their 

rifles  now." 
He  looks  around  in  wonder  and  what  do  you 

think  he  sees? 
The  Gorga-i  Milish-i  eating  Gooberpeas. 

Now  my  story's  ended,  it's  lasted  long  enough 
The    story's   interesting,   but  the    rhymes    are 

rather  rough. 
When  this  war  is  over  and  we  are  free  from 

grays  and  fleas 
We'll  kiss  our  wives     and     sweethearts     and 

grabble    Gooberpeas. 


163 


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V 

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Part  Three 

By    W.    B.    Crump  ton 

To  California  and  Back  after  a  Lapse  of 
Forty  Years 


165 


Introduction 

1 N  HISTORY  few  things  are 
of  greater  interest  than  bi- 
ography and  in  biography 
few  things  are  of  greater 
interest  than  travel.  A  good  strong 
man  who  has  covered  much  of  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth,  with  his  eyes  and 
ears  open,  and  tells  of  it  intelligently 
and  charmingly  to  others  is  a  real  ben- 
efactor to  his  friends. 

Every  acquaintance  of  the  author  of 
this  volume  will  be  grateful  for  what 
he  has  written  herein.  He  needs  no  in- 
troduction and  it  is  almost  wholly  form- 
al even  to  call  his  name.  Who  in  Ala- 
bama does  not  know  him,  and  among  us 
all,  whose  life  has  not  been  touched  lo 
some  extent  by  the  influence  of  his? 
The  observant  reader  will  recognize  at 

167 


once  the  well  known  style,  the  vein  of 
seriousness  and  the  vein  of  pleasantry 
running  side  by  side,  and  the  high,  dis- 
tinctive purpose.  The  author  has  theor- 
ies, as  any  one  can  see,  elevated  and 
generous  theories,  but  here  above  all 
else  is  the  practical  man,  the  man  of  af- 
fairs, taking  life  as  it  comes,  with  its 
ups  and  downs,  entering  into  its  very 
currents,  becoming  of  it  a  part,  laying 
his  hand  upon  it  and  utilizing  it  for  the 
glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  his  fellow- 
men. 

In  these  letters  the  youthful  reader 
will  find  interest  and  entertainment  as 
he  looks  through  anticipation  at  the 
real  problems  of  life;  the  person  in 
middle  years  will  discover  confirmation 
for  his  strength  and  hope  as  he  actually 
struggles  with  these  problems,  while 
many  sentiments  will  minister  comfort 
and  peace  to  him  who  is  in  the  afternoon 
of  life  and  ere  long  expects  to  look  out 
into  the  winter  of  age. 

CHARLES  A.  STAKELY. 
Montgomery,  Ala. 


168 


Preface  to   Letters  of  the  Second 
Trip 


It  has  been  a  number  of  years  since 
these  letters  appeared  in  the  Alabama 
Baptist.  As  I  have  traveled,  many  have 
been  the  kind  words  said  to  me  about 
them.  Parents  have  expressed  the  wish 
that  I  put  them  in  book  form  so  that 
their  children  could  read  them.  Some 
old  people  and  the  "shut-ins,"  who  by 
reason  of  their  age  or  affliction  can 
never  hope  to  travel,  have  expressed 
the  same  wish.  In  the  hope  that  its 
reading  may  entertain,  instruct  and  en- 
courage, I  send  the  little  booklet  out. — 

W.  B.  C. 


169 


Chapter    I 


A  second  trip  to  California  after  forty 
years;  My  home  in  Marion;  Begins  the  trip; 
The  dry  dock;  Not  another  berth;  The  Sunset 
Limited;  The  Great  Salt  Mine;  Beaumont; 
San  Antonio;  The  Alamo;  He  expects  it  of 
me;  Out  on  the  boundless  prairies;  Nears  the 
Del  Rio;  The  Seminole  Cave  Canon;  Breakfast 
at  El  Paso;  The  Rio  Grande;  Consumptives' 
paradise;  At  Lordsburg;  At  San  Simons; 
Tucson;    People  go   to   Europe. 

OFF  ON  SECOND  TRIP  TO  CALIFORNIA 
AFTER   FORTY  YEARS. 

Dear  Bro.  Barnett: 


ffiST^T^  HEN  I  promised  weeks  ago 
to  write  something  of  my 
trip  for  the  Alabama  Bap- 
tist, I  thought  it  an  easy 
task  but  I  discover  my 
"Trip  Notes"  in  Ala- 
bama, which  I  have  been  writ- 
ing for  twenty  years,  are  not  hard  to 
prepare.     If  it  is     not     convenient    to 


mistake. 


171 


write  them  on  the  spot,  one  can  carry  in 
his  mind  the  points  worthy  of  mention 
and  write  them  at  leisure;  but  not  so 
with  a  trip  like  this.  There  is  so  much 
to  see  during  the  day  you  do  not  want  to 
be  writing,  lest  you  miss  something  of 
interest ;  if  you  put  off  the  writing,  you 
are  sure  to  leave  out  much  which  would 
interest  the  reader.  So  here  I  am  far 
out  on  the  sandy  plains  of  New  Mexico, 
where  the  scenery  seems  to  be  unchang- 
ed for  many  miles.  I  am  trying  to  put 
together  the  points  I  have  scored  down 
for  my  friends  in  Alabama.  We  have 
just  passed  the  1,200th  mile  post,  just 
about  half  the  way  from  New  Orleans 
to  San  Francisco. 

It  was  very  kind  of  the  brethren  of 
the  State  Board  of  Missions  to  give  me 
this  month  off.  Probably,  ten  years 
ago,  I  was  given  my  first  vacation  of 
one  month.  It  was  a  new  experience 
to  me.  Brethren  who  had  been  used  to 
such  things  volunteered  to  advise  me 
where  to  spend  it.  "Go  to  Monteagle," 
said  one,  "Go  to  the  coast,"  said  an- 
other; but  I  went  to 


172 


MY    HOME    IN    MARION. 

the  best  spot  on  earth  for  me  to  rest. 
I  thought.  Every  day  my  mail  was 
sent  me  and  after  a  rest  of  one  day,  I 
went  to  writing  letters  and  in  a  little 
while,  I  found  myself  planning  cam- 
paigns and  arranging  my  plans  of  work 
for  months  ahead.  The  month  was 
soon  gone  and  I  returned  to  the 
office  but  little  benefitted.  I  have  deter- 
mined that  shall  not  occur  again.  I 
hope  I  will  not  receive  a  business  letter 
for  a  month.  Don't  get  it  into  your 
mind,  kind  reader,  that  I  am  sick  or 
broken  down.  I  am  all  right — never 
felt  better  than  I  do  this  morning  of 
January  15th;  but  I  am  sure  I  will  be 
better  and  stronger  after  this  month's 
rest. 

BUT  LET   ME   BEGIN   WITH    MY  TRIP. 

George  Ely,  of  Montgomery,  the 
Traveling  Passenger  Agent  of  the 
Southern  Pacific,  is  one  of  the  cleverest 
railroad  men  in  all  the  South.  I  have 
been  telling  him  of  this  trip  for  years : 

173 


"All  right,  when  you  get  ready,  let  me 
know,  and  I  will  load  you  up,"  said  he, 
after  every  talk.  Sure  enough  he  did. 
"Through  Story  Land  to  Sunset  Skies," 
is  the  striking  name  of  a  book  he  gave 
me.  A  couple  of  old  travelers  who  are 
supposed  to  have  passed  this  way  years 
ago  before  there  was  any  thought  of  a 
railroad,  takes  a  girl  and  her  papa  into 
their  party  and  start  for  San  Francisco 
on  the  Limited.  First  one  and  then  the 
other  taUts.  In  those  far-off  days,  they 
must  have  camped  for  months  at  every 
point,  for  they  know  the  history  of  ev- 
ery section  and  places  of  interest. 

Their  "Limited"  seems  to  have  been 
an  unlimited,  as  to  time,  for  the  narra- 
tive takes  you  leisurely  from  point  to 
point.  It  is  invaluable  to  the  party  who 
takes  the  trip  and  I  am  the  only  one 
who  seems  to  possess  one  in  the  car. 

"Where  are  we?"  "Wonder  what 
there  is  here?"  "I  declare  it  is  the  driest 
dullest  trip  I  ever  took."  These  are 
some  of  the  expressions  I  have  heard. 
I  haven't  time  to  tell  them  about  things. 
I  wish  I  had,  for  it  is  such  a  pity  for 
people  to  take  the  long  trip  and  get  so 

174 


little  out  of  it.     One  old  sister,  I  fear, 
will  worry  herself  sick. 
The  great 

DRY   DOCK 

lately  built  by  the  government  and 
brought  by  sea  from  New  York  to  New 
Orleans,  was  all  the  talk.  "What  sort 
of  a  looking  thing  is  a  dry  dock?"  I 
asked  one  of  my  friends.  "We'll  go  out 
tomorrow  and  see  it,'  was  the  reply.  It's 
wonderful  to  think  of  a  machine  like 
that  with  power  to  lift  the  man-of-war, 
"Illinois,"  the  biggest  vessel  in  the 
navy,  clear  out  of  the  water.  "The  big- 
gest dry  dock  in  the  world,"  said  my 
friend.  It  is  wonderful  how  many  "big- 
gest things  in  the  world"  one  meets  in 
traveling.  I  have  passed  near  "the  big- 
gest salt  mines,"  "the  biggest  hunting 
and  fishing  ground,"  "the  biggest  bridge 
in  the  world,"  "the  biggest  sugar  refin- 
ery." I  don't  know  how  many  "big- 
gest things  in  the  world"  there  are 
ahead  of  me,  but  that  dry  dock  and  the 
battleship  Illinois,  are  big  things,  for 
sure. 

175 


"NOT  ANOTHER  BERTH 

on  the  Limited  Monday,"  was  the  un- 
pleasant news  I  got  at  the  ticket  office 
two  days  before  I  was  ready  to  go.  It 
was  a  great  disappointment.  The  Lim- 
ited is  made  up  entirely  of  Pullman 
sleepers  with  a  dining  car  attached. 
"Seventy-three  hours  from  New  Orleans 
to  San  Francisco,"  are  the  words  which 
I  have  thought  about  for  three  months. 
Here  is  a  description  which  charmed 
me :  "Sunset  Limited  traverses  the  New 
Coast  Line  betwen  Los  Angeles  and  San 
Francisco,  the  grandest  trip  in  the 
United  States." 

EQUIPMENT   OF    "SUNSET    LIMITED." 
COMPOSITE   CAR,    "EL  INDIA." 

A  place  where  men  smoke,  read  and 
rest.  The  first  car  of  the  train :  It  con- 
tains buffet,  baths,  barber  shop,  desk, 
bookcases,  books  and  stationery.  Here 
one  may  view  the  peculiar  scenery 
through  wide  plate-glass  windows,  tell 
yarns  and  enjoy  full  comfort  of  an  up- 
to-date  equipment.  A  conveyencae 
worthy  of  any  man's  admiration." 

176 


Then  it  goes  on  to  describe  in  tne 
same  style  each  car:  The  ladies'  parlor 
car,  the  sleeping  car,  the  dining  car. 
But  I  missed  it  by  not  engaging  a  place 
beforehand.  Never  mind,  next  time  I'll 
know  better.  I  lose  a  day  thereby  and 
pay  double  for  a  sleeper.  Poor  comfort, 
but  the  best  at  hand,  "an  upper  berth 
only  to  Los  Angeles  on  the  regular  train 
is  all  that  is  left — nothing  to  San  Fran- 
cisco," and  I  jumped  at  it. 

An  hour  later  and  I  would  have  had 
to  go  in  the  day  coach  and  nod  it  out. 
It  looks  like  everybody  has  taken  a  no- 
tion to  travel  at  the  same  time;  but  I 
learn  it  is  always  this  way  on  this  road 
in  winter.  Through  the  low  lands  and 
swamps  and  magnificent  sugar  planta- 
tions, the  train  speeds  on  its  western 
course.  The  Teche  country  through 
which  we  go  is  called  the  "Sugar  Bowl 
of  Louisiana."  I  wonder  that  it  wasn't 
put  down  as  the  "biggest  thing  of  its 
kind  in  the  world." 

Before  we  leave  Louisiana,  it  will  be 
interesting  to  some  I  am  sure,  to  hear 
something  of  the 


177 


GREAT  SALT  MINE 

which  for  several  years  furnished  the 
most  of  the  salt  used  in  the  Confeder- 
acy, in  our  civil  war.  The  mine  is  on 
"Avery's  Island,"  on  the  Gulf  coast. 
Many  years  ago  a  boy  returning  from 
a  successful  hunt,  threw  the  deer  he  had 
killed  into  the  fork  of  a  tree  while  he 
sought  to  slake  his  thirst  at  a  beautiful 
spring.  The  water  was  so  salty  he 
could  not  drink  it.  On  telling  his  mother 
about  it,  she  had  water  brought  from 
the  spring  and  boiled  and  secured  a 
good  deposit  of  salt.  Gradually  the 
spring  came  to  be  used.  After  a  while, 
farming  interests  absorbed  the  attention 
of  the  owner  of  the  island,  who  by  the 
was  was  a  Yankee  from  New  Jersey, 
who  fled  South  with  his  negro  slaves, 
when  it  became  inevitable  that  the  ne- 
groes North  were  going  to  be  freed. 
How  the  South  has  been  cursed  about 
slavery :  The  facts  of  history  show  that 
Northern  people  are  responsible.  Not 
Southerners,  but  Northerners,  stole  the 
negroes  from  Africa  and  introduced 
slavery  in  the  United  States.  When  they 

178 


found  the  institution  didn't  pay,  they 
brought  the  slaves  South  and  sold  them 
to  our  fathers.  Later  they  drenched  the 
nation  in  blood  to  free  the  slaves  their 
daddies  had  sold  to  us.  Some  few  did 
as  Col.  Avery  did:  moved  South  with 
their  negro  slaves.  (But  to  return  to 
the   Salt  Industry.) 

Gradually  the  salt  springs  were 
abandoned  until  our  civil  war,  when 
salt  began  to  bring  $11.00  a  bar- 
rel in  New  Orleans.  The  son  of  the 
planter  asked  his  father  for  permission 
to  run  a  kettle  in  boiling,  to  this  was 
added  other  kettles,  and  so  the  mine  de- 
veloped. When  the  springs  would  not 
supply  the  water  fast  enough,  a  well 
was  dug.  Sixteen  feet  from  the  surface, 
what  seemed  to  be  the  stump  of  an  old 
tree  was  struck,  covering  the  bottom  of 
the  well.  Close  examination  proved  it 
to  be  solid  rock  salt.  The  owner,  Col. 
Avery,  leased  a  part  of  the  mine  to  the 
Confederate  Government.  It  is  said  at 
the  close  of  the  war,  he  found  himself 
the  fortunate  possessor  of  $3,000,000  of 
worthless  Confederate  money;  besides 
this,  he  lost  2,000  bales  of  cotton,  which 

179 


the  government  had  paid  him  for, 
worth  in  the  market  after  the  surrender 
from  twenty-five  to  fifty  cents  per 
pound.  The  mines  were  captured  by 
the  Federals  in  1863,  but  work  was  re- 
sumed after  they  left. 

The  mining  goes  on  now  on  an  ex- 
tensive scale  and  great  tunnels  run 
through  it  many  feet  below  the  surface. 
The  supply  is  practically  inexhaustible. 
It  has  been  explored  by  boring  1,200 
feet  down  and  the  bottom  of  the  salt 
bed  is  still  below.  How  is  that  for  a 
saity  story!    We  passed 

BEAUMONT 

at  night,  much  to  my  regret,  but  I 
learned  the  oil  fields,  which  I  hoped  to 
catch  a  sight  of,  were  five  miles  away. 
However,  I  felt  the  breeze,  as  every 
passenger  who  got  aboard  for  a  hun- 
dred miles  in  either  direction  was  talk- 
ing oil.  I  imagined  I  could  almost  smell 
and  taste  kerosene.  You  may  be  sure 
I  heard  of  the  "biggest"  oil  well.  A  lit- 
tle later  I  struck  a  cow-man.  I  don't 
know  whether  he  was  a  "Cattle  King" 

180 


or  not,  but  he  could  talk  cows.  I  was 
glad  to  have  him  in  the  same  section 
with  me  for  he  knew  the  country  and 
could  answer  all  my  questions.  Houston 
was  passed  in  the  night. 
We  breakfasted  at 

SAN  ANTONIO 

and  found  the  town  rejoicing  over  the 
breaking  of  a  five  month's  drought  by 
the  rain  which  was  then  falling.  One 
of  the  natives  said :  "You  can't  tell  any- 
thing about  rains  here.  They  may  stop 
in  fifteen  minutes  or  they  may  pour 
down  for  a  week."  We  found  it  so,  for 
in  a  few  minutes  after  leaving  San  An- 
tonio, the  clouds  began  to  break  and 
soon  the  bright  sun  appeared,  but  the 
rain  had  extended  far  to  the  west  which 
was  fortunate  for  the  travelers.  I  was 
so  impressed  with  what  I  read  of  the 
battle  of  the  Alamo  which  took  place 
near  San  Antonio.  I  will  quote  it.  Some 
have  read  it  before,  but  the  most  of 
your  readers  have  not : 


181 


THE    ALAMO 

"If  deeds  of  daring  sanctify  the  soil 
that  witnessed  them,  that  should  be  to 
every  American,  one  of  the  sacred 
places  of  the  land.  We  soon  alighted 
in  front  of  the  old  church  and  entered 
its  broad  portal.  A  hundred  and  sev- 
enty-five years  have  elapsed  since  its 
foundations  were  begun.  Its  early  his- 
tory would  be  filled  with  the  interest  of 
tradition  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that 
one  glorious  deed  of  sacrifice  dwarfs  all 
that  went  before.  Here  on  March  6, 
1836,  one  hundred  and  eighty-one  cit- 
izen soldiers,  untrained  to  war,  fought 
more  than  twenty  times  their  number 
and  scorning  retreat  deliberately  chose 
to  die.  The  fight  began  February  23rd, 
when  the  Mexican  army  under  Santa 
Anna  began  the  assault.  The  attack 
was  continued  day  and  night,  and  each 
time  the  Mexican  column  was  hurled 
back  with  frightful  loss.  Each  day 
witnessed  supreme  examples  of  heroism 
on  the  part  of  the  beleaguered  men.  One 
of  the  most  inspiring  of  them  was  the 
sacrifice  of  James  Butler  Bonham,  a  na- 

182 


tive  of  South  Carolina,  and  the  friend 
of  Col.  Travis,  who  commanded  the  Ala- 
mo forces.  He  had  been  sent  to  Fannin 
with  appeals  for  aid,  which  were  un- 
availing. On  March  2nd,  he  reached, 
on  his  return,  a  hill  overlooking  the 
scene  of  the  seige,  accompanied  by  two 
companions.  Realizing  the  situation, 
these  associates  saw  no  necessity  for 
further  progress  and  demanded  of  Bon- 
ham  that  they  retire.  The  reply  of 
Bonham  immortalized  him.  He  said :  "I 
will  report  the  result  of  my  mission  to 
Colonel  Travis. 

HE    EXPECTS    IT    OF    ME. 

I  have  to  tell  him  there  is  no  prospect 
of  reiniorcements,  that  he  has  but  to 
die  in  defending  his  cause  and  that  I 
came  to  die  with  him."  Then  bidding 
farewell  to  his  companions,  mounted  on 
a  cream  colored  horse,  through  the 
lines  of  the  enemy  and  amid  showers 
of  bullets,  this  gallant  son  of  South  Car- 
olina rode  to  his  death.  The  gates  of 
the  fortress  opened  to  receive  him  and 
he  presented  himself  to  his  chief.    This 

183 


is  the  noblest  incident  in  history  of 
stern  adherence  to  solemn  duty  without 
regard  to  personal  danger.  On  the 
morning  of  March  6th,  a  general  assault 
took  place.  Slowly  the  noble  Texans 
were  driven  back  until  inside  the  church 
they  made  their  last  stand.  No  quarter 
was  asked,  none  granted.  Each  Texan 
died  desperately  in  hand-to-hand  con- 
flict with  overpowering  numbers.  Col. 
Jas.  Bowie,  sick  and  unable  to  rise,  was 
bayoneted  in  bed.  Col.  David  Crocket 
died  amid  a  circle  of  slaughtered  foes. 
Travis  fell  upon  the  wall  when  he  was 
giving  inspiration  to  his  men.  When 
the  last  Texan  died,  the  floor  was  near- 
ly ankle  deep  in  blood  and  ghastly 
corpses  were  heaped  everywhere.  By 
order  of  Santa  Anna,  the  bodies  were 
piled  in  heaps  and  burned.  On  the 
monument  to  these  immortal  dead,  Tex- 
as writes  an  inscription  so  great  it 
makes  the  heart  stand  still:  "Ther- 
mopylae had  its  messenger  of  defeat — 
the  Alamo  had  none." 

"I  am  sorry  for  you  for 


184 


THE  NEXT  TWO  DAYS.     IT  IS  THE  DRIEST, 
DULLEST  RIDE  I  EVER  TOOK." 

A  lady,  with  whom  I  became  ac- 
quainted said  that  to  me  on  quitting 
the  train  at  San  Antonio.  Folks  are  so 
unlike.  What  was  to  her  dull  and  un- 
interesting, I  found  to  be  of  the  greatest 
interest  to  me.  True  there  were  not 
many  people  to  be  seen,  but  the  bound- 
less prairies  with  here  and  there  herds 
of  cattle  or  horses  grazing  and  occa- 
sionally a  Greaser  village  with  moun- 
tains now  and  then  appearing  in  the 
distance,  had  a  charm  about  it  for  me 
which  I  have  never  experienced  before. 

OUT  IN  THE  BOUNDLESS  PRAIRIE. 

Mesquite  bushes  cover  thinly  the  land 
and  remind  one  constantly  of  an  old 
neglected  orchard  where  the  sprouts 
have  been  allowed  to  grow  up  from  the 
roots  of  the  trees.  The  railroad  has  a 
four-wire  fence  on  each  side  of  the 
track,  which  gives  the  land  the  appear- 
ance of  being  fenced  and  you  are  all 
the  time  on  the  lookout  for  the  farm 

185 


house,  just  beyond  the  orchard,  but  it 
never  appears.  Occasionally  right  in 
the  midst  of  the  Mesquite  you  see  a 
forty  or  eighty  acre  tract  broken  in  a 
square,  showing  the  soil  as  black  as 
one's  hat.  Occasionally  is  seen  a  cotton 
field,  but  the  crop  failed  because  of  the 
drought.  All  the  laborers  on  the  rail- 
road seem  to  be  Mexicans  and  I  learn 
they  give  general  satisfaction,  but  my! 
what  shabby  hovels  they  live  in!  Some- 
times only  straw  or  brush  covered  with 
straw,  but  more  frequently  built  of 
"doby,"  sun  dried  brick.  As  we  near  the 
Texas  border,  the  soil  becomes  thinner 
and  more  rocky.  We  pass  towns  with 
no  sign  of  gardens  or  orchards. 

We  have  passed  the  dry  beds  of  im- 
mense streams,  some  of  them  called 
rivers,  I  presume. 

AS  WE  NEAR  THE  DEL  RIO, 

some  running  streams  are  seen  and 
signs  of  irrigation.  Here  is  the  Rio 
Grande  which  for  thirteen  miles  of  its 
length  forms  the  boundary  between  the 
United  States  and  Mexico.  The  railroad 

186 


skirts  along  the  river  bank  at  the  base 
of  a  great  cliff  to  the  right  and  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river  the  bare  Mexican 
mountains  frown  down  upon  us.  Dev- 
il's river  is  crossed,  a  beautiful  stream 
which  refuses  for  miles,  to  mix  its  clear 
waters  with  the  muddy  Rio  Grande. 

THE  SEMINOLE  CAVE  CANON — 

pronounced  "kanyon,"  as  the  gorges 
between  the  mountains  are  called,  is  so 
grand  one  regrets  that  the  railroad  does 
not  go  through  it.  Only  a  glimpse  is 
had  of  its  mouth  as  it  opens  on  Devil1* 
river.  Up,  up  the  rocky  steeps  we  go 
until  the  open  plains  are  reached.  The 
Spanish  dagger,  some  scrubby  bushes, 
and  a  species  of  grass,  resembling  bear 
grass  is  all  there  is  in  the  way  of  vege- 
tation. The  Pecos  river  is  crossed  by 
the  "highest  bridge  in  the  world,"  the 
boy  said  who  tried  to  sell  the  pictures: 
"Mo  it  ain't,"  said  a  gentleman,  "the 
one  across  Kentucky  river  near  Lexing- 
ton, is  the  highest,"  and  the  man  by  my 
side  said  he  knew  of  two  that  were 
higher  than  either  one.     Anyway,  as  I 

187 


looked  down  into  the  river,  320  feet  be- 
low, I  thought  it  was  high  enough.  They 
say  that  the  atmosphere  is  so  clear  here 
that  your  eyes  deceive  you.  At  one 
point,  the  Santa  Rosa  mountains  in 
Mexico,  seventy  miles  away,  can  be 
clearly  seen,  but  they  look  to  be  only 
five  miles  off.  Much  of  the  finest  scen- 
ery we  missed  at  night.  Paisaino  Pass, 
summit  of  the  Sunset  Route,  we  did  not 
see.    Its  altitude  is  5,082  feet. 

WE  BREAKFASTED  AT  EL  PASO 

— two  full  days  from  New  Orleans. 
What  horrible  tales  are  told  of  Mexican 
and  Indian  cruelties  in  the  days  of  long 
ago,  but  my  Texas  friend  tells  me  that 
everything  like  ruffianism  in  all  this 
section  is  passed;  that  hunters  can, 
with  perfect  safety,  camp  miles  away 
on  these  plains  without  fear  of  molesta- 
tion. But  looking  at  some  of  the  speci- 
mens of  men  hereabouts,  I'd  rather  do 
my  hunting  further  East,  if  sport  was 
what  I  was  after.  In  spite  of  the  drv 
climate  some  people  are  farming  about 
El  Paso.    Of  course  it  is  done  by  irriga- 

188 


tion,  the  Kio  Grande  furnishing  the 
water.  Here  is  where  we  change  time. 
By  our  watches  it  was  8:30  only  a  little 
after  daylight.  They  said  the  only  thing 
perplexing  about  El  Paso  is  the  time.  It 
has  four  brands  of  time  and  the  citizen 
takes  his  choice.  "They  used  to  have 
four  or  five  other  varieties,  but  so  many 
people  became  insane  in  the  attempt  to 
keep  their  watches  right  and  meet  ap- 
pointments, that  now  they  have  only 
four."  Between  New  Orleans  and  El 
Paso,  Central  time  is  adhered  to,  Pacific 
time  from  there  West.  The  difference 
is  two  hours;  so  if  you  arrive  at  El 
Paso  at  11:15  a.  m.  and  wait  there  an 
hour  and  three  quarters,  you  still  get 
away  at  11  a.  m.,  and  experience  no  de- 
lay. Then  there  is  local  or  sun  time  and 
Mexican  time  besides.  "Wonder  if  all 
the  boys  who  read  these  lines  under- 
stand about  the  change  from  sun 
time  to  railroad  time?"  The  12  o'clock 
mark,  when  I  was  a  boy,  was  what  we 
blew  the  dinner  horn  by  and  we  got 
along  first-rate;  but  now  the  railroads 
have  taken  us  in  hand  and  changed  all 
that.     Here  at  El  Paso,  they  seem  to 

189 


have  done  their  worst  on  old  time — 
cheating  him  out  of  two  hours  when  go- 
ing West,  or  maybe  they  only  borrow 
the  two  hours  and  pay  it  back  on  the 
trip  East. 

THE   RIO   GRANDE 

The  water  is  very  low  and  muddy. 
We  are  now  in  New  Mexico  running 
across  its  southwestern  border  for  two 
hundred  and  fifty  miles.  There  was  a 
white  frost  on  this  morning,  a  rare 
thing  here.  The  poor  Mexicans  were 
huddled  on  the  sunny-side  of  their  dug- 
outs and  dobys,  wrapped  in  their  blan- 
kets. I  can't  see  where  they  get  wood 
to  burn,  the  country  is  so  barren.  My 
friend  told  me  yesterday  that  these  are 
typical  Mexican  homes.  A  poor  little 
pony,  a  long-nosed  pig  or  two,  a  mangy 
cur,  and  a  few  chickens  are  all  they 
possess  in  the  way  of  live  stock,  with 
these  they  seem  perfectly  contented. 
Some  one  said  El  Paso  was  the 

consumptive's  paradise 
but  from  stories  I  heard  about    other 

190 


places,  I  am  sure  it  has  rivals.  One 
man  asserted  that  one  winter  he  heard 
there  were  37,000  consumptives  in  and 
around  San  Antonio  and  El  Paso.  Of 
course  it  was  not  so;  but  that  yarn  is 
spun  by  the  great  family  of  "They  Say." 
On  our  train  there  were  several  poor 
fellows  on  their  way  West  for  their 
health.  How  they  did  cough!  It  was 
distressing.  One  said,  "I  have  bron- 
chitis which  bothers  me  some.  My 
lungs  are  not  at  all  affected."  How 
strange  the  hopeful  tone  of  all  consump- 
tives! May  be  it  is  well  that  they  are 
so.  "When  you  get  into  Arizona,  it 
will  be  so  dusty  you  can  hardly  see  out 
of  the  windows,"  said  the  porter.  That 
is  the  case  here  in  New  Mexico  and  if 
the  wind  was  blowing  it  would  be  blind- 
ing. A  vast  sandy  plain  in  every  di- 
rection with  bare  mountains,  sometimes 
sand,  sometimes  rock,  in  the  far  dis- 
tance, is  all  we  see.  As  we  near  Dem- 
ing,  we  begin  to  see  wind  mills,  which 
indicates  the  presence  of  water  at  not 
a  great  depth.  Here  is  a  nice  town, 
some  large  stores,  a  court  house  and 
public  school  building,  all  of  brick;  but 

191 


what  on  earth  keeps  up  the  town?  Pos- 
sibly there  may  be  grazing  land  in  the 
region  and  maybe  some  mining;  but  to 
a  stranger  all  is  desert. 

AT  LORDSBURG 

we  pass  into  Arizona.  Drummers  are 
everywhere  present.  They  crowd  on 
with  their  grips  and  sample  cases  at 
every  station.  The  saloon  is  everywhere 
present  also.  At  one  place,  besides  the 
depot  building,  I  saw  no  businss  house 
except  a  combined  saloon  and  barber 
shop.  The  "Tennessee  Saloon"  was  in 
one  place;  "This  here  is  a  saloon,"  was 
the  sign  on  another.  After  we  left  San 
Antonio,  the  tramps  disappear.  Up  to 
that  point,  I  could  see  them  looking 
wistfully  at  the  flying  train  in  day  time 
and  at  night  I  could  see  their  camp 
fires  beside  the  track;  but  the  stations 
are  too  far  apart  and  the  picking  too 
poor  beyond  San  Antonio  for  these  en- 
terprising travelers.  Though  the  coun- 
try seems  so  dry  and  barren,  there  are 
evidences  that  sometimes  they  have 
fearful  rain  falls.     I  noticed  at  several 

192 


points  in  Arizona  vast  areas,  cover- 
ing probably  thousands  of  acres,  where 
at  times  there  are  lakes  or  inland  seas. 
Now  the  surface  is  dry  and  cracked, 
with  not  the  least  sign  of  water  except 
at  one  spot  where  the  depression  is 
deepest  and  there  is  congregated  a 
great  herd  of  poverty-stricken  cattle. 
The  wire  fence  on  either  side  of  the  road 
keeps  me  company.  It  makes  one  think 
the  land  is  fenced  to  keep  the  cattle  in 
and  you  are  expecting  to  see  a  great 
herd  every  minute;  but  the  fence  be- 
longs to  the  railroad  and  is  intended  to 
keep  cattle  off  the  track.  Think  of  a 
double  line  of  wire  fence  three  thous- 
and miles  long;  yes,  longer  than  tha^, 
for  the  Southern  Pacific  goes  right  on 
to  Portland,  Oregon,  nearly  eight  hun- 
dred miles  north  and  to  Ogden,  nearly 
a  thousand  miles  east  of  San  Francisco 
and  the  fences  go  with  it. 

AT  SAN  SIMONS, 

in  Arizona,  they  say  there  is  fine  graz- 
ing for  cattle,  one  company  alone  own- 
ing 75,000  head.    I  was  on  the  lookout 

193 


for  the  face  of  the  Apache  chief,  called 
"Cochise's  Head."  It  is  far  to  the 
southwest  on  the  mountain  top.  I  fan- 
cied I  saw  it  time  and  again,  but  when 
it  came  in  sight,  there  was  no  mistaking 
it.  The  outline  of  the  face  with  its 
great  Roman  nose  looking  towards  the 
heavens,  is  very  distinct;  for  three 
hours  it  was  in  full  view  of  the  train. 
The  Apache  Indians,  who  once  roamed 
these  plains,  called  that  mountain  after 
the  name  of  their  greatest  chieftain 

TUCSON, 

pronounced  "Tuson,"  said  to  be  one  of 
the  quaintest  towns  in  all  the  West  and 
next  to  the  oldest  place  in  the  United 
States,  I  saw  only  by  its  electric  lights. 
Phoenix,  the  capital,  is  thirty-four 
miles  from  our  route  on  a  branch  road. 
I  was  so  charmed  with  descriptions  of 
the  country  thereabouts,  I  copy  for 
your  readers  some  interesting  matter: 

"All  this  country  was  settled  by  an 
earlier  race  than  any  of  the  present  In- 
dians. The  cliffs  all  through  these  Ari- 
zona mountains  are  covered  with  hiero- 

194 


glyphics  and  pictographs.  The  Salt  and 
Gila  (Hela)  river  valleys  are  full  of  old 
ruins  of  early  occupancy.  There  are 
artificial  mounds,  hundreds  of  feet  long, 
extensive  canals  for  irrigating  pur- 
poses, and  vast  debris — all,  a  class  of 
work  the  present  races  are  unfamiliar 
with.  The  most  wonderful,  or  at  least 
the  best  known  of  all  these  ruins — lies 
three  hours  of  stage  north  of  the  sta- 
tion of  Casa  Grande.  Father  Niza,  who, 
in  1539,  visited  the  country,  heard  of 
these  ruins  which  were  then  regarded 
with  awe  and  veneration  by  the  native 
tribes.  Coronado's  people  visited  them 
in  1540,  and  since  then  many  explorers 
have  come  and  gone,  and  left  descrip- 
tions to  tell  us  what  they  were  and  are. 
As  they  exist  today,  they  still  show  the 
towering  adobe  walls  that  are  believed 
to  have  been  seven  stories  in  height. 

"Some  of  the  rooms  were  thirty  and 
forty  feet  long.  Archaeologists  and 
ethnologists  have  puzzled  over  these 
ruins  for  ages.  Today,  with  their  re- 
mains of  great  irrigating  ditches  all 
about  them,  they  present  a  hard  nut 
for  scientists  to  crack.     However,  we 

195 


must  stand  amazed  at  the  extent  of 
these  ruins.  One  of  the  great  canals 
tapped  the  Salt  river  on  the  south  side 
near  the  mouth  of  the  Verde.  For  three 
and  a  half  miles  it  passes  through  an 
artificial  gorge  in  the  Superstition 
mountains,  cut  out  of  solid  rock  to  a 
depth  of  a  hundred  feet.  After  pass- 
ing the  mountains,  it  divides  into  four 
branches  whose  aggregate  length  is  120 
miles  independent  of  the  distributing 
ditches.  This  system  of  canals  irrigated 
1,600  square  miles  of  country.  The  en- 
gineering is  perfect.  There  is  not  even 
a  tradition  to  be  found  of  these  people. 
We  only  know  that  at  a  period  fixed  by 
scientists  as  2,000  years  ago,  the  Brad- 
shaw  mountains  were  active  volcanoes, 
and  the  lava,  making  its  way  through 
Black  Canon  flowed  into  these  canals. 
Still  later,  a  great  deluge  flowed  over 
McDowell  Mountains,  segregating  their 
granite  sides  and  depositing  their  wash 
over  the  upper  valley  and  the  canals  to 
a  depth  of  from  three  to  five  feet.  This 
gives  us  testimony  as  to  the  age  of 
these  vast  works,  and  tells  us  nothing 
of  the  millions  of  people  who  must  once 

196 


have  lived  here  in  a  high  state  of  civ- 
ilization. 

PEOPLE  GO  TO  EUROPE 

to  find  ancient  civilizations,  when  they 
can  get  them  right  here  at  home.  There 
isn't  anything  in  history  more  fascinat- 
ing than  the  story  of  the  conquest  of 
this  very  region  we  are  traveling 
through.  There  is  a  dramatic  recital  of 
Spanish  occupancy  reaching  back  280 
years  beyond  the  Guadalupe-Hidalgo 
treaty  of  '46.  The  gold  and  silver  hun- 
gry Madrid  government  was  pretty 
nearly  pushed  out  by  the  Indian  out- 
break of  1802,  the  Mexican  revolution 
twenty  years  later,  and  the  Apache  up- 
rising of  1827.  The  country  became  a 
wilderness  almost  until  from  1845  to 
1860,  hardy  settlers  forced  their  way 
into  the  rich  valleys,  established  homes 
and  began  developing  again  the  re- 
sources of  the  country.  Then  our  war 
came  on,  protection  was  withdrawn,  the 
Apaches  swooped  down,  and  it  took  ten 
years  to  undo  their  work  and  begin 
again  the  building  of  a  commonwealth. 

197 


Now,  here's  an  empire  as  large  as  the 
six  New  England  States  with  New  York 
thrown  in.  Its  climate  and  scenery  are 
so  varied  that  they  appeal  to  every  in- 
terest. All  the  semi-tropical  plants 
grow  in  the  southern  valleys,  while  the 
peaks  of  its  northern  mountains  are 
clad  in  perpetual  snow.  Here  is  the 
awe-inspiring  canon  of  the  Colorado, 
the  greatest  and  most  marvelous  cleft 
in  the  mountains  of  the  world.  You 
can  see  a  petrified  forest  here,  with  the 
trees  congealed  into  stone,  rearing  their 
rugged  trunks  fifty  and  seventy  feet 
in  the  air.  What  else  does  man  want 
than  that  which  he  can  find  in  Arizona  ? 
It  is  rich  in  mines,  in  timber,  grazing 
land,  soil  for  fruit  culture,  the  best  cli- 
mate to  be  found  anywhere.  The  wealth 
of  the  territory  is  worth  more  than  a 
hundred  million  dollars,  and  is  increas- 
ing with  wonderful  rapidity  as  people 
are  coming  to  know  its  limitless  re- 
sources. 

"It  used  to  be  that  the  consumptive 
had  Phoenix  all  to  himself.  He  went 
there  and  the  climate  gave  him  life  and 
health,   but  of  late  years  the   agricul- 

198 


turist,  the  fruit  raiser  and  bee  keeper 
have  crowded  him  pretty  closely,  so 
that  now  you  find  the  thrifty  modern 
city  set  down  among  groves  of  oranges, 
lemon,  plum,  apricot  and  peach  trees 
that  make  a  paradise  out  of  all  that 
beautiful  valley,  so  that  men  find  there 
not  only  health,  but  wealth.  It  is  the 
center  of  some  of  the  greatest  irriga- 
tion schemes  that  have  been  undertak- 
en in  our  age." 


199 


Chapter    II 


In  Southern  California;  Plowing  machine; 
In  the  oil  country;  San  Francisco;  The  Union 
Ferry  Depot;  Fort  Alkatras;  Sausalito;  Seal 
rocks;  The  Golden  Gate;  Sutro  baths  and  mu- 
seum; China  Town;  The  United  States  Mint; 
James  Lick;  The  Stanford  University;  The 
climate. 

^^^IJFTER  days  of  travel  over 
the  dreary  desert  waste,  it 
was  refreshing  to  look  out 
in  the  early  morning  on 
the  orchards  of  oranges,  lemons,  limes, 
and  I  know  not  how  many  other  kinds 
of  fruit.    We  are  now 

IN   SOUTHERN   CALIFORNIA. 

There  are  yet  miles  on  miles  of  desert 
country,  but  it  is  frequently  broken  by 
the  orchards  of  tropical  fruits.  Some 
one  said  as  we  traversed  New  Mexico 

201 


and  Arizona  deserts :  "This  country  was 
made  only  to  tie  the  lands  which  are  fit 
for  something  together."  I  fell  in 
with  the  balance  in  that  opinion;  but  I 
am  far  from  believing  that  now.  Wher- 
ever water  can  be  had  for  irrigation, 
these  sandy  plains  and  knobs  can  be 
made  to  blossom  as  the  rose.  It  is  de- 
monstrated beyond  all  question  here 
and  in  some  of  the  parks  about  San 
Francisco.  We  passed  in  the  night  old 
Fort  Yuma  and  the  Colorado  river, 
which  separates  Arizona  from  Califor- 
nia and  empties  into  the  Gulf  of  Cali- 
fornia. From  Riverside,  Pomona  and 
Los  Angeles  to  San  Francisco,  over  the 
Coast  Line,  the  country  is  as  the  garden 
of  the  Lord,  except  when  the  great  cat- 
tle ranches  and  wheat  farms  occupy  the 
territory.  Farming  is  made  profitable 
only  by  irrigation.  This  is  usually  the 
rainy  season  when  the  irrigating  ditches 
are  not  much  in  use,  but  no  rain  has 
fallen  and  the  farmers  are  busy  prepar- 
ing the  ground  and  planting  wheat.  In 
many  places  they  were  flooding  the 
ground  in  order  to  bring  up  the  wheat, 
already  sown.    I  saw  only  a  few  places 

202 


where  the  crop  was  showing.  What 
would  Alabama  farmers  think  of  run- 
ning a  plow  with  six  and  eight  horses 
attached?    It  was  not  one  plow,  but  a 

PLOWING  MACHINE 

having  several  large  breakers.  I  saw 
from  six  to  ten  horses  pulling  harrow?. 
Horse  flesh  seems  to  be  abundant.  In 
size,  the  horses  are  simply  immense. 
The  Eucalyptus  tree  is  a  disappoint- 
ment: where  it  stands  alone  it  grows 
to  a  great  height,  having  a  few  scat- 
tering branches ;  but  in  groves  and  clus- 
ters along  avenues  and  on  the  moun- 
tain sides,  it  is  charming.  Its  growth 
is  rapid,  and  as  an  absorbent  of  malaria 
it  is  noted  above  all  plants.  I  am  sur- 
prised that  it  is  not  grown  around  Mo- 
bile and  New  Orleans.  The  Coast  Line 
from  Los  Angeles  has  been  open  only  a 
few  weeks,  and  now  trains  run  into  San 
Francisco  for  the  first  time.  Many 
roads  centre  here,  but  the  Southern 
Pacific  is  the  first  to  take  its  train  into 
the  city.  All  others  have  their  termin- 
als over  the  Bay  at  different  points,  or 

203 


trains  are  brought  over  by  steamers. 
From  San  Buena  Ventura  for  many- 
miles,  our  train  runs  by  the  side  of  the 
Ocean.  It  is  a  glorious  sight  to  one 
unused  to  the  Sea.  There  are  numer- 
ous large  towns  and  the  lands  in  many 
places  seem  to  be  fertile  almost  to  the 
beach.    California  is  becoming 

NOTED  FOR  ITS  OIL. 

At  one  point  on  the  coast  there  must 
have  been  three  hundred  derricks, 
many  of  them  on  wharves  extending 
far  out  into  the  ocean,  the  wells  being 
only  a  few  feet  apart.  Back  in  the 
mountains  and  foot-hills  there  must  be 
many  more,  as  I  can  see  hundreds  of 
great  tanks  along  the  beach.  Owing  to 
the  high  price  for  coal,  it  will  not  be  a 
great  while  before  oil  will  run  most  of 
the  machinery  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  The 
most  of  the  coal  used  comes  from 
Australia  and  is  very  high.  The  wild- 
est, grandest  scenery  of  the  whole  trip 
is  where  the  road  pierces  the  Coast 
Range  at  San  Louis  Obispo.  I  would 
not  dare  undertake  its  description.  And 
now  I  am  in 

204 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

after  an  absence  of  forty  years.  Of 
course  I  recognize  nothing — all  is 
changed;  hills  have  been  leveled  and 
their  sands  emptied  into  the  Bay.  Front 
Street  is  now  separated  from  the  Bay 
front  by  blocks  of  magnificent  build- 
ings. My  brother  and  his  wife  met  me. 
How  they  have  changed !  I  never  would 
have  known  them.  They  were  impolite 
enough  to  accuse  me  of  growing  old, 
too. 

THE  UNION  FERRY  DEPOT, 

from  which  our  boat  started  on  its  six 
mile  trip  across  the  Bay,  is  a  wonderful 
structure,  and  is  built  on  a  mud  foun- 
dation where  the  Bay  has  been  filled 
in.  It  is  659  feet  long  with  a  clock 
tower  rising  245  feet.  The  second 
story  contains  a  hall  the  whole  length 
of  the  building,  48  feet  wide  and  42 
feet  high.  The  building  belongs  to  the 
State  and  is  used  for  waiting  rooms  for 
some  of  the  great  railroads  and  for  the 
many  large  ferry  boats  which  cross  the 

205 


Bay  to  Oakland,  Alameda,  Berkeley, 
Sausalito  and  many  other  points.  The 
Bay  is  filled  with  shipping  of  every  de- 
scription and  from  all  parts  of  the 
world. 

FORT  ALKATRAS 

is  on  an  island.  If  the  prison  there 
could  talk,  it  could  tell  many  a  tale  of 
suffering  during  the  civil  war,  the  only 
offense  being,  the  occupant  sympathized 
with  the  Confederacy.  Yonder  is  Goat 
Island,  in  whose  shadow  a  number  of 
boys  and  I,  years  ago,  in  our  own  beau- 
tiful sail  boat,  on  a  Saturday  morning, 
made  a  fine  beginning  for  a  day's  fish- 
ing, but  the  wretched  fellows  soon  took 
a  notion  to  return  to  Oakland — mean- 
time the  wind  had  sprung  up  and  the 
Bay  was  lashed  into  great  billows.  I 
was  hopelessly  in  the  minority,  and  re- 
luctantly took  my  place  and  steered  the 
little  craft  over  the  mad  waves.  In  a 
few  minutes  every  fellow  except  myself 
was  deathly  sick,  and  I  was  left  to  man- 
age sails  and  helm  alone.  It  was  my 
first  lesson   in  navigation.     Time  and 

206 


again  I  was  sure  we  were  lost,  but  the 
Lord  must  have  interposed,  though  none 
of  us  were  much  given  to  a  religious 
life.  When  we  got  safely  ashore  my  in- 
terest in  the  boat  was  quickly  disposed 
of  to  my  fool-hardy  companions. 
Through  all  these  years  I  have  fondly 
hoped  I  might  some  day  finish  that  fish, 
so  unceremoniously  broken  into. 

SAUSALITO 

is  the  end  of  my  journey.  My  brother 
lives  here  in  a  lovely  home  built  in  a 
niche  of  the  mountain  and  fronting  the 
Bay,  which  is  not  twenty  steps  from  his 
gate.  San  Francisco  is  plainly  in  view 
directly  in  front,  and  Oakland  and  oth- 
er cities  by  the  Bay,  are  to  the  left.  This 
is  the  terminus  of  a  railroad  which  runs 
back  in  Marin  county  through  a  beau- 
tiful country.  People  who  live  here 
and  on  back  for  miles  to  San  Rafael, 
mostly  have  business  in  the  city. 

They  are  conveyed  to  and  from  their 
homes  bj  cars  and  boats  which  run  ev- 
ery half  hour.  It  is  said  there  are  two 
thousand  people  in  this  burg;     but     I 

207 


can't  see  where  they  are.  In  nooks  and 
corners  of  the  mountains  they  are  stuck 
away  so  that  it  looks  more  like  a  thick- 
ly settled  country  community  than  a 
town.  The  streets  run  around  the 
mountains  on  easy  grades  so  that  before 
one  is  aware  of  it  he  is  on  a  high  eleva- 
tion. Exercise!  You  can  get  all  you 
want  here.  The  back  entrance  to  my 
brother's  home  is  some  four  hundred 
feet  above  his  house  and  is  reached  by 
a  flight  of  steps  almost  as  steep  as  a 
ladder.  I  have  always  counted  myself 
a  good  walker,  but  I  am  not  in  it  with 
these  Californians.  Both  men  and 
women  are  great  walkers.  Remarking 
on  the  great  number  of  ruddy-faced 
girls  and  women  I  saw,  the  quick  ex- 
planation was :  "We  have  so  much  open 
weather  and  the  air  is  so  bracing,  our 
people  are  so  much  out  of  doors;  hence 
the  ruddy  cheeks."    I  am  a 

POOR  HAND  AT  SIGHT-SEEING. 

Probably  it  comes  from  a  sort  of  tired 
feeling  which  I  have  had  since  my 
birth;  anyway,  I  don't  like  to  start  out 

208 


in  the  business  of  seeing  things,  but 
I  just  had  to.  These  people  believe 
they  have  something  worth  seeing  and 
they  leave  their  affairs  behind  and  give 
themselves  to  showing  the  tourists  the 
sights.  And  they  are  worth  seeing,  too. 
You  can  write  almost  anything  extrav- 
agant about  California  and  it  will  not 
be  far  from  the  truth.  I  was  glad  I 
was  not  left  to  myself,  but  how  help- 
less I  am  when  it  comes  to  writing 
about  the  sights.  I  can  command  only  a 
few  adjectives  and  they  soon  become 
commonplace.  "Immense"  is  one  of  my 
favorites.  "Wonderful"  is  another. 
Then  comes  "great"  and  a  lot  of  little 
ones  until  I  grow  tired  and  only  grust 
as  my  guide  raves  over  what  we  are 
looking  at.  If  I  could  only  rave  over 
things!  I  will  never  have  a  better  op- 
portunity than  now,  but  the  thing  is 
impossible  for  me. 

"The  City  of  Atlanta"  is  the  name  of 
the  Observation  Car  which  makes  sev- 
eral trips  daily  to  the  Cliff  House  and 
return.  The  conductor  is  a  good  talk- 
er and  knows  his  business  thoroughly. 
While  the  car  moves  along  at  a  good 

209 


speed,  he  announces  to  the  travelers  the 
places  of  interest. 

We  pass  the  great  power  house  where 
is  generated  the  electricity  which  runs 
the  many  miles  of  electric  car  line;  the 
Mission  Dolores,  an  old  adobe  building 
erected  in  1776 ;  Golden  Gate  Park,  cov- 
ering more  than  one  thousand  acres; 
the  Affiliate  Colleges,  three  great  build- 
ings situated  on  a  mountain  side  over- 
looking the  city  and  bay,  and  finally  the 
Cliff  House  on  the  point  on  the  Pacific. 
Out  there  two  hundred  yards  away  are 
the 

SEAL  ROCKS. 

A  great  herd  of  seals  live  there,  pro- 
tected by  the  authorities  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  the  travelers  who  flock  here  by 
the  thousands.  In  the  afternoon  they 
look  like  a  flock  of  sheep  resting  in  the 
shadows  of  the  rock;  but  in  the  morn- 
ing they  are  playing  in  the  waters.  At 
one  time  they  sound  like  a  pack  of 
hounds  far  in  the  distance;  at  another, 
like  a  herd  of  hungry  cattle.  This,  with 
the  roar  of  the  ocean  against  the  rocks, 
makes  a  sound  one  never  can  forget. 

210 


It  is  said  that  here,  on  the  broad  pi- 
azzas of  the  Cliff  House,  is  the  only  spot 
in  all  the  world  where  such  a  sight  can 
be  enjoyed.  I  was  told  that  some  years 
ago  after  a  storm,  a  large  sea-lion, 
killed  by  the  storm,  was  washed  ashore, 
and  its  weight  was  twenty-seven  hun- 
dred pounds.  I  do  not  doubt,  it  judg- 
ing by  the  appearance  of  one  immense 
old  fellow,  which  they  have  named  "Ben 
Butler,"  after  "Beast  Butler,"  I  sup- 
pose, of  New  Orleans  fame. 

The  quickest  way  out  of  my  troubles 
at  this  point  is  to  allow  other  writers 
to  tell  of  the  things  that  I  saw  there. 

"The  entrance  through 

THE   GOLDEN  GATE 

cannot  be  surpassed.  On  the  right  can 
be  seen  the  Cliff  House  and  Sutro 
Heights;  on  the  left,  Point  Bonita 
Lighthouse.  Passing  these,  you  enter 
what  might  be  called  the  vestibule  of 
the  Golden  Gate,  which  narrows  to  the 
distance  of  one  and  one-eighth  miles 
between  Fort  Point  and  Lime  Point, 
with  a  depth  of  water  of  three  hundred 
and  ninety  feet. 

211 


The  bay  is  so  land-locked  that  the 
early  voyagers  kept  sailing  right  by  its 
narrow  opening,  and  it  was  not  until 
November  7,  1769,  that  it  was  discov- 
ered; but  it  was  not  entered  and  made 
known  to  the  world  until  1775.  The 
Bay  covers  450  square  miles.  It  can 
accommodate  the  navies  of  the  entire 
world  without  crowding  them. 

SUTRO    BATHS    AND    MUSEUM 

is  where  an  immense  rock  basin  catch- 
es the  water  from  the  ocean  twice  a  day 
at  high  tide.  The  baths,  with  a  capac- 
ity of  nearly  two  millions  of  gallons, 
can  be  filled  within  an  hour.  The  length 
of  the  building  is  500  feet.  It  has  seat- 
ing capacity  for  3,700  and  swimming 
accommodations  for  2,000  bathers.  Tons 
of  iron  and  thousands  of  feet  of  glass, 
3,000,000  feet  of  lumber  and  over  300,- 
000  feet  of  concrete  were  used  in  its 
construction.  The  bathers  are  here  all 
times  of  the  year." 

I  can't  tell  of  Golden  Gate  Park,  with 
its  beautiful  drives,  its  statuary,  muse- 
um, its  herds  of  buffaloes  and  deer;  of 

212 


the  Presidio,  the  Government  reserva- 
tion of  over  1,500  acres,  which  Las  been 
beautified  until  it  may  be  included 
among  the  parks  of  San  Francisco. 

CHINATOWN, 

covering  twelve  squares  of  the  city, 
where  nobody  lives  but  Chinese,  is  a 
place  of  great  interest.  Many  visitors 
employ  guides  and  take  in  the  town  at 
night,  which,  I  am  told,  is  the  best  time 
to  see  it  at  its  worst.  Horrid  tales  are 
told  of  underground  opium  dens,  where 
victims  of  the  drug,  of  all  colors,  con- 
gregate ;  of  the  gambling  hells,  and  the 
Chinese  lotteries.  Two  Chinese  landed 
in  1848;  in  1850  there  were  450;  in  1852 
10,000  landed  in  one  month.  They  were 
welcomed  at  first.  They  are  the  best  of 
laborers,  but  they  soon  began  to  sup- 
plant white  labor.  It  was  discovered 
also  that  they  did  not  come  with  their 
families,  to  make  this  country  their 
home.  They  keep  what  they  make  and 
return  with  it  to  China — they  even 
send  the  bones  of  their  dead  back  to  the 
Celestial  Empire.     By  law,  they  have 

213 


been  prohibited  from  coming  to  this 
country  for  some  years.  The  years  of 
the  first  Exclusion  Act  are  now  about 
out,  and  one  of  the  biggest  questions,  in 
the  minds  of  Californians  is,  the  new 
Exclusion  Law.  The  Labor  party  is 
very  strong  in  the  State,  and  the  politi- 
cians dare  not  antagonize  it.  It  is  a 
serious  problem.  If  the  Chinese  would 
come  like  the  people  of  other  nations 
and  bring  their  families  and  settle  in 
the  country,  their  enemies  would  be 
robbed  of  their  strongest  argument.  No 
exclusion  laws  are  thought  of  against 
the  people  of  other  nations,  even  though 
they  supplant,  in  many  lines,  the  Amer- 
ican laboring  man. 

THE  UNITED  STATES   MINT. 

"The  biggest  mint  in  the  world,"  the 
fellow  said,  is  a  place  where  one  can 
feel  mighty  rich  for  a  little  while.  Vis- 
itors are  received  at  regular  hours, 
bunched  and  put  in  charge  of  a  guide 
who  shows  them  through.  One  can  see 
the  money  in  every  process  of  manufac- 
ture.    I  was  impressed  with  the  fact 

214 


that  two  dies  stamp  $40,000  in  $20  gold 
pieces  in  ten  minutes  and  that  the  coin- 
age is  about  $30,000,000  a  year.  I  saw 
only  one  greenback  and  one  copper 
while  I  was  in  San  Francisco.  Only 
gold  and  silver  are  used. 

JAMES  LICK 

was  an  old  pioneer — a  machinist  and  a 
bachelor.  He  used  his  immense  wealth 
in  beautifying  the  city  and  benefiting 
his  fellow  men.  The  Pioneers'  Build- 
ing he  gave,  leaving  it  richly  endowed. 
Here  are  gathered  all  the  curios  of  the 
early  times  and  from  the  fund  is  sup- 
ported old  and  disabled  pioneers.  He 
gave  to  the  city  a  great  bath  house, 
where  any  one  can  bathe  without  cost; 
$400,000  of  his  money  went  into  the 
California  Academy  of  Science. 

The  Lick  Observatory,  near  San  Jose, 
crowning  the  summit  of  Mount  Hamil- 
ton, 4,250  feet  above  sea  level,  his  great- 
est benefaction,  I  could  only  read  about. 
The  bequest  amounted  to  $7,000,000, 
and  the  telescope  alone  cost     $55,000. 

215 


This  is  indeed  the  biggest  telescope  in 
the  world. 

THE  STANFORD  UNIVERSITY 

at  Palo  Alto,  only  a  few  miles  away 
from  San  Francisco  on  the  Coast  Line, 
I  could  easily  have  seen  in  passing,  but 
it  escaped  me.  It  is  named  for  Leland 
Stanford,  Jr.,  for  whom  it  will  be  a  per- 
petual monument.  He  was  the  only 
child,  and  the  parents  devoted  the  whole 
of  their  princely  fortune  to  the  erection 
and  endowment  of  this  great  school.  I 
saw  the  palatial  home  of  the  widow  in 
San  Francisco.  This  school  and  the 
State  University  at  Berkeley,  certainly 
offer  great  advantages  to  the  young  men 
and  women  of  California — they  are  both 
co-educational. 

The  great  wealth  of  this  country  is 
simply  marvelous.  The  taxable  prop- 
erty of  San  Francisco  amounts  to  near- 
ly $400,000,000,  with  $120,000,000 
hoarded  in  savings  banks,  or  $343  per 
capita,  but  notwithstanding  all  this 
there  is  a  great  army  of  very  poor  peo- 
ple. 

216 


THE  CLIMATE 

about  San  Francisco  is  peculiar.  The 
average  maximum  temperature  for 
twenty-two  years  has  been  62  and  the 
minimum  51  degrees,  a  variation  of 
only  eleven  degrees.  The  January  tem- 
perature, for  those  years,  has  been  50 
and  for  June  59  degrees.  The  last  and 
the  first  three  months  of  each  year  are 
the  rainiest — only  about  67  rainy  days 
in  the  year.  The  people  wear  the  same 
outer  garments  the  year  round.  Ice  and 
snow  are  seldom  seen.  The  fogs  make 
it  an  undesirable  place  for  people  with 
pulmonary  troubles. 

I  have  missed  many  things  of  great 
interest.  Back  of  my  brother's  house, 
upon  Mount  Tamalpais,  is  the  "crook- 
edest  railroad  in  the  world."  It  doubles 
back  on  itself  five  times,  forming  a  dou- 
ble bow  knot.  But  for  the  fogs,  I  should 
have  enjoyed  the  trip  where  the  finest 
view  in  all  the  country  may  be  had. 


217 


Chapter    Three 


Los  Angeles;  "Seeing  Los  Angeles";  The  re- 
turn; The  pit;  The  Mirage;  Old  Fort  Yuma; 
Religious  matters;  Baptists;  An  interesting 
occurrence;  The  pastors'  conference;  Califor- 
nia College;  One  serious  question. 

NE  who  travels  and  ob- 
serves could  write  letters 
indefinitely  about  what  he 
sees  and  hears,  but  the 
question  is:  "How  long  will  the 
readers  stand  it?"  Just  what  to 
write  about  and  when  to  stop,  are 
perplexing  questions,  but  I  must 
close  with  this  letter.  Besides  a 
day  in  Oakland  and  Berkeley,  where  the 
State  University  is  located,  and  a  short 
run  on  a  railroad  to  San  Quinten,  all 
my  sight-seeing  was  done  in  San  Fran- 
cisco. There  are  over  half  a  million 
people  in  and  around  that  city.  Prob- 
ably 350,000  in  San  Francisco;  Oakland 
Alameda,  Berkeley    and     several  other 

219 


towns  across  the  bay,  practically  one 
city,  have  over  one  hundred  thousand 
more.  Just  two  weeks  was  the  length 
of  my  stay  thereabouts.  Everybody 
was  very  kind  to  give  advice  to  the  trav- 
eler, some  of  which  he  took — if  he  had 
taken  it  all,  he  would  have  been  gone  a 
year  or  more.  Before  I  left,  on  the  way, 
and  about  San  Francisco,  I  was  told  I 
must  not  return  without  seeing 

LOS  ANGELES. 

I  gave  two  days  returning,  one  of 
them  Sunday,  to  this  surpassingly  beau- 
tiful city.  "You  must  see  Pasadena, 
Long  Bsach,  Riverside  and  Mount 
Lowe,"  a  friend  said  and  another  sug- 
gested a  trip  to  San  Diego  and  I  know 
not  how  many  other  places,  but  the  line 
had  to  be  drawn  somewhere  and  this 
is  the  last  place  for  me  on  this  trip. 
"There  is  nothing  in  a  name,"  but  here 
is  one  I  found,  there  is  something  in: 
"Pueblo  de  la  Reina  de  los  Angelise." 
That  was  the  original  Spanish  name: 
the  meaning  was :  "Town  of  the  Queen 
of  the  Angels."     It  must  have  been  a 

220 


beautiful  place  in  those  far  off  days, 
1781.  It  was  rather  damp,  raw  weath- 
er while  I  was  there  and  I  saw  but  lit- 
tle. The  display  of  fruits  and  farm 
products  and  natural  resources  of 
Southern  California,  at  the  Chamber  of 
Commerce  is  simply  marvelous.  The 
immense  hotels  of  the  city  are  full  all 
through  the  winters.  I  was  told  there 
were  60,000  tourists  in  the  city  the  day 
I  was  there.  These  great  hotels  are  not 
run  for  fun  either,  as  I  happen  to  know 
from  what  I  paid  for  one  night's  lodg- 
ing. At  all  the  suburban  cities,  I  learn- 
ed, the  hotels  flourish  as  they  do  here. 
In  Florida  it  is  said :  "the  people  live  on 
gophers  in  the  summer  and  on  Yankees 
in  the  winter."  These  people  certainly 
have  a  fine  chance  at  the  Yankees  in 
winter.  Southern  people,  too,  find  their 
way  here  and  many  have  made  it  their 
home.  Mrs.  Scarboro,  a  Judson  girl, 
into  whose  home  I  was  received  with  an 
old  fashioned  southern  welcome,  told 
me  there  were  four  Judson  girls  and 
several  Howard  College  boys  there.  The 
Daughters  of  the  Confederacy  have  two 
chapters,  and  I  think  the     old  Confed- 

221 


erates  have  an  organization,  too.  Her 
old  friends  in  Alabama  will  be  glad  to 
know  that  Miss  Sue  Daniel  makes  this 
her  home  and  that  she  is  well  and  hap- 
py. .  How  many  people  she  knows  in 
Alabama  and  how  they  do  love  her !  She 
loves  the  Lord  and  His  work  here  as 
she  did  in  Marion. 

"SEEING   LOS   ANGELES." 

is  the  name  of  the  observation  car  which 
will  give  you  a  two  or  three  hours  ride 
through  the  city  for  a  small  sum.  I 
can't  begin  to  tell  of  all  we  saw.  There 
are  hundreds  of  palatial  homes  here  in 
the  midst  of  grounds  surrounded  by  the 
rarest  of  plants.  I  can't  understand 
why  they  do  not  have  the  orange  as  an 
ornamental  tree,  for  it  grows  beautiful- 
ly all  around.  It  is  a  lovely  tree  and 
when  loaded  with  fruit,  it  surpasses 
anything  I  have  seen.  I  was  never  tired 
of  eating  oranges  until  now.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  acres  on  acres  I  saw, 
covered  with  trees  laden  with  the  lus- 
cious fruit.  The  growth  of  the  popula- 
tion in  this  Southern  California  city  is 
something  marvelous. 

222 


In  1860  there  were  4,500 ;  in  1870, 
11,000;  in  1880,  50,000;  in  1897,  more 
than  100,000,  and  at  this  time,  probably 
150,000.  What  is  the  attraction?  the 
reader  asks.  The  climate  is  the  first 
thing,  of  course.  It  is  only  293  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea,  the  air  is  dry 
and  entirely  free  from  malarial  in- 
fluences. There  is  not  much  need  of  fire 
in  the  homes,  so  spring-like  is  the 
weather  most  of  the  time.  The  ocean 
is  only  a  short  distance  away  on  one 
side,  and  the  mountains,  on  the  other 
side,  are  only  a  few  minutes  ride.  Be- 
sides all  this,  the  rich  lands  abound. 
Oil  wells  are  abundant  in  the  southern 
part  of  the  city.  Many  persons  mort- 
gaged delightful  homes  to  develop  wells 
in  their  front  and  back  yards  and  af- 
terwards lost  all.  Some  of  the  wisest 
feel  that  the  discovery  of  oil  was  a  cal- 
amity to  the  city.  The  conductor  on 
our  observation  car,  in  his  excellent  de- 
scription of  things,  as  we  went  along, 
would  occasionally  venture  to  perpe- 
trate a  piece  of  wit  at  which  there  was 
the  faintest  sort  of  a  smile  on  the  faces 
of  some  of  his  passengers,  on  others,  it 

223 


was  entirely  lost,  but  he  made  one  hap- 
py hit,  which  brought  down  the  house. 
"On  the  left  you  see  many  hundreds  of 
derricks,  showing  that  Los  Angeles  has 
among  her  many  other  resources,  oil  to 
burn.  You  will  observe  that  the  oil 
wells  come  to  an  abrupt  termination  at 
the  fence  of  the  old  cemetery.  Many 
people  insisted  that  so  much  valuable 
territory  should  not  be  given  up  to  the 
dead  since  the  occupants  had  either 
gone  to  where  they  did  not  need  oil,  or 
to  where  fuel  was  furnished  them  free." 

THE  RETURN 

Was  by  the  same  route  I  went.  If  I 
had  to  make  the  trip  again,  I  should  go 
one  way  and  return  another.  I  am  not 
at  all  displeased  with  the  Southern  Pa- 
cific. It  was  as  good  as  I  wanted  and 
I  guess  the  equal  of  any  others.  I 
counted  myself  fortunate  to  get  a  place 
on  the  Limited  returning!  Beyond  the 
saving  of  a  day,  I  discovered  but  little 
advantage  over  a  place  on  the  sleeper 
on  the  regular  train.  Everything  was 
nice  and  convenient  of  course,  and,  if  I 

224 


had  plenty  of  money  and  loved  to  smoke 
and  drink,  I  think  I  would  put  great 
store  on  the  Limited ;  but  a  lower  berth 
on  a  sleeper  on  the  regular  train,  is 
good  enough  for  me.  I  saw  many 
points  of  interest,  returning,  which  I 
passed  in  the  night,  going. 

"THE  PIT" 

Is  a  depression  in  Southern  California 
through  which  the  road  runs  which 
reaches  at  Salton,  tivo  hundred  and  six- 
ty-three feet  below  the  level  of  the  sea. 
Only  a  few  miles  away,  across  the  moun- 
tain range,  is  the  Pacific  ocean  and  here 
at  Salton  they  have  great  salt  works, 
where  the  waters  of  the  Salt  Springs, 
found  in  the  neighborhood,  are  evap- 
orated. All  this  region  was  once  cov- 
ered by  the  ocean,  no  doubt,  and  the 
probabilities  are  that  it  will  be  again 
some  day.  Here,  they  say,  in  this  at- 
mosphere, is  the  place  for  consumptives 
and  there  are  Very  many  to  be  seen.  At 
Indio,  twenty  feet  below  sea  level,  there 
is  a  good  hotel  and  neat  little  cottages, 
fitted  up  especially  for  the  accommoda- 
tion of  invalids. 

225 


THE  MIRAGE. 

I  thought  I  saw  it  going  out,  but  was 
mistaken.  I  am  not  prepared  yet  to  say 
it  was  not  a  lake  of  water  or  mud,  for 
they  say  the  Salt  Springs  and  the  Vol- 
canic Springs  of  mud  are  hereabouts. 
One  dares  not  approach  too  near  the 
latter.  It  spreads  itself  out  over  many 
acres  and  maybe  many  miles.  If  it  is 
dangerous  to  explore,  who  knows  but 
the  so-called  mirage  is  a  real  lake  of 
mud  and  water !  But  there  it  is  out  a  few 
miles  from  the  railroad,  and  for  miles 
you  can  see  it.  You  see  distinctly  the 
shadows  from  the  other  bank  and  little 
knolls  and  islands,  all  through  it,  cast 
their  shadows  distinctly  on  the  face  of 
the  water.  Yet  they  say  it  is  all  a  de- 
lusion, there  is  no  water  there!  Maybe 
so,  but  I  am  a  skeptic. 

In  a  former  letter  I  spoke  of 
the  four  wire  fences  on  either  side 
of  the  road  and  suggested  that 
it  was  more  than  3,000  miles  long; 
but  I  discovered  in  the  Colorado  desert, 
which  I  passed  at  night  while  going, 
there  is  no  fence  for  hundreds  of  miles, 

226 


nothing  but  bare  sand,  and  of  course, 
there  are  no  cattle  to  get  on  the  track. 

OLD  FORT  YUMA 

Is  a  historic  spot  on  the  Colorado  river, 
This  was  the  crossing  place  in  the  early 
days  of  all  the  thousands  of  gold  hunt- 
ers from  the  East.  If  its  history  could 
be  written  what  stories  of  adventure 
and  suffering  would  it  contain!  It  was 
here  my  brother,  in  1849,  caught  the 
first  glimpse  of  California  after  a  long 
and  perilous  trip  across  the  plains  from 
Ft.  Smith  in  Arkansas.  If  he  would 
write  the  story  of  his  ups  and  downs 
before  and  after  getting  to  California 
it  would  make  mighty  interesting  read- 
ing. 

The  town  of  Yuma  is  not  far  from 
the  Gulf  of  California — I  saw  two  lit- 
tle steamboats  tied  up  there.  If  any- 
one has  been  trying  to  do  anything  in 
the  way  of  teaching  and  evangelizing 
the  Yuma  Indians,  a  company  of  whom 
we  saw,  they  certainly  have  reason  to 
be  discouraged.  I  have  seen  nowhere 
more  wretched  specimens  of  humanity. 

227 


The  government  policy  of  continuing 
the  I»dians  as  "Wards  of  the  Nation," 
supplying  them  with  a  living  without 
any  effort  on  their  part,  and  the  efforts 
of  the  Catholics  to  Christianize  them, 
have  been,  alike  failures. 

Now  my  trip  is  ended.  I  have  tra- 
veled 205  miles  in  Alabama,  63  in  Mis- 
sissippi, 300  in  Louisiana,  947  in  Texas, 
249  in  New  Mexico,  414  in  Arizona,  728 
in  California,  making  in  all  2,906  miles. 
It  has  been  a  great  pleasure  for  me  to 
write  these  letters.  I  doubt  not  they 
seemed  very  commonplace  to  many  who 
are  used  to  travel.  I  haven't  had  that 
class  in  mind  at  all.  I  have  thought  of 
the  many  hundreds  who  were  "Shut- 
Ins"  by  reason  of  circumstances,  and 
will  in  all  probability  never  make  this 
trip  or  anything  like  it.  I  will  be  glad 
if  the  letters  have  proven  helpful  to 
any. 

It  is  proper  that  these  letters  of  travel 
should  close  with  something  about 

RELIGIOUS  MATTERS. 

The  earliest  religion  to  be  planted  in 

228 


all  this  western  country  was  Roman 
Catholic.  In  Texas,  New  Mexico,  Ari- 
zona and  California,  you  will  hear  of 
"The  Missions,"  by  which  they  mean 
some  ancient  cathedral  or  monastery, 
built  more  than  a  century  ago,  but  now 
in  ruins.  The  tumble-down  walls  are  of 
great  interest  to  the  traveler,  and  are 
regarded  with  superstitious  reverence 
by  many  persons.  Enthusiastic  orators 
and  writers  often  rave  over  the  noble 
self-sacrifice  of  the  Spanish  priests  who 
founded  these  Missions.  Doubtless 
there  were  some  pure,  good  men  among 
them,  inflamed  with  a  zeal  for  soul  sav- 
ing. But  if  we  study  the  history  of  the 
Missions,  there  is  little  to  admire.  There 
was  a  deliberate  trade  between  the 
Spanish  Government  and  these  Span- 
ish Fathers.  They  received  every 
encouragement  from  the  government 
and  carried  on  their  building  and  trad- 
ing under  government  protection.  The 
Indians,  whom  they  came  to  Christian- 
ize, became  practically  their  slaves.  The 
labor  required  to  quarry  and  dress  the 
stones,  burn  the  brick  and  prepare  and 
transport  the  timbers  for  the  buildings, 

229 


was  immense,  and  it  was  all  done  by  the 
Indians  under  the  direction  of  the  Fath- 
ers. The  income  from  the  Missions,  es- 
tablished by  one  of  the  Societies,  became 
$2,000,000  annually.  They  were  in 
possession  of  their  properties  for  more 
than  half  a  century.  After  the  Missions 
were  secularized  by  the  Mexican  gov- 
ernment, to  replete  its  exhausted  treas- 
ures, the  Fathers  gave  up  their  places, 
the  Missions  crumbled  into  ruins  and 
their  converts  went  back  into  their  sav- 
age state. 

There  is  now  no  trace  of  anything 
permanent  about  their  work,  except 
where  the  Indians  intermarried  with 
the  Spanish  soldiers;  their  decendants 
are  still  Catholics.  But  the  Catholics 
are  strong  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  as  they 
are  everywhere  in  Coast  cities.  Proba- 
bly the  Episcopalians  come  next, 
though  of  this  I  am  not  certain.  From 
all  that  I  could  see,  most  of  the  people 
are  working  at  most  anything  else  than 
religion.  I  was  constantly  reminded  of 
the  couplet  in  the  old  hymn : 

"Where  every  prospect  pleases 

And  only  man  is  vile." 

230 


If  a  lovely  country,  delightful  climate, 
bountiful  harvests  and  general  pros- 
perity, make  people  religious,  the  Cali- 
fornians  certainly  ought  to  be  devout; 
but  I  fear  they  take  these  things  as 
matters  of  course,  and  forget  the  Giver 
of  all  good. 

I  was  told  at  Sausalito  that  men  did 
not  go  to  preaching  in  California.  From 
what  I  saw  in  the  Episcopal  church  in 
that  little  city,  at  a  night  service,  it 
looked  as  if  it  were  true;  but  I  wor- 
shipped with  the  First  Baptist  Church 
in  San  Francisco  on  two  Sunday  morn- 
ings and  was  much  pleased  to  find  full> 
one-half  the  worshippers  males. 

BAPTISTS 

in  San  Francisco  are  few  in  numbers. 
I  had  the  privilege  of  preaching 
for  the  First  Church  people  one 
morning.  Dr.  Wood,  the  pastor,  is  a 
strong  preacher,  and  seems  to  have  an 
aggressive  church.  My  membership 
was  here  when  I  was  a  boy.  But  I  was 
not  a  very  loyal  member,  as  the  reader 
later  will  find  how  I  attended  the  serv- 

231 


ices  of  Dr.  Scott  on  account  of  my 
Southern  proclivities.  A  Southern 
preacher  in  California  is  a  rarity,  I 
judge,  but  he  meets  with  a  hearty  wel- 
come. Old  Southerners,  of  course,  greet 
him  with  a  style  he  is  used  to,  and  the 
Yankees  crowd  about  him  as  if  he  were 
a  curiosity.  "I  knew  you  were  from 
the  South,"  said  one:  "Why?"  I  asked. 
"Are  you  a  Southern  man?"  "No,  but  I 
was  down  in  that  country  on  the  other 
side  from  you  in  the  war."  From  the 
handshake  he  gave  me,  one  would  not 
have  guessed  that  we  had  at  one  time 
been  enemies.  "Reckon"  is  a  good  word 
peculiar  to  the  South  and  so  is  "Tote." 
These  are  the  two  words,  the  use  of 
which  anywhere  in  the  North,  will  be- 
tray the  speaker  as  a  Southern  man. 
The  words  they  use  to  express  the  same 
ideas  are  "Guess"  and  "Pack."  I  sub- 
mit these  are  no  improvement  on  ours. 
In  my  sermon  I  had  occasion  to  say, 
"You  reckon" — instantly  the  face  of 
every  Northerner  was  lit  up  with  a 
smile.  I  was  greatly  pleased  with  the 
heartiness  with  which  most  everyone  in 
the  congregation  entered  into  the  sing- 

232 


ing.  An  instrument  was  used,  but  a 
leader  stood  on  the  platform  and  led 
the  congregation.  The  pastor  explained 
to  me,  rather  apologetically,  that  since 
their  building  was  destroyed  a  few  years 
ago,  with  their  fine  organ,  a  choir  had 
not  been  organized.  I  thought:  "The 
Lord  be  praised  for  a  fire  if  it  gives 
us  such  singing  as  that  in  place  of  the 
music  of  the  average  city  choir." 

AN  INTERESTING  OCCURRENCE. 

Before  the  service  began,  the  pastor 
begged  the  indulgence  of  the  congrega- 
tion while  he  stated  the  case  of  a  gentle- 
man who  was  present.  He  came  from 
El  Dorado  county,  where  there  was  no 
Baptist  church  nearer  than  forty  miles 
of  him.  He  had  been  converted  for 
some  time,  and  being  in  the  city  on 
business,  he  concluded  to  remain  over 
Sunday  and  state  his  case  to  the  church 
here  and  ask  for  baptism.  It  was  the 
custom  of  the  church  to  hear  such 
cases  on  Wednesday  night,  at  the  prayer 
meeting,  but  the  brother  was  to  return 
to  his  home  next  day,   so  the  matter 

233 


came  up  at  the  morning  service  on 
Sunday.  The  brother  made  his  state- 
ment, some  questions  were  asked,  and 
he  was  received  for  baptism,  which  was 
to  take  place  that  night.  There  was 
present  a  gentleman  who  had  been  so 
circumstanced  he  had  not  witnessed,  for 
many  years,  the  reception  of  a  member 
in  a  Baptist  church.  On  leaving  the 
church  he  said:  "I  haven't  seen  that 
way  of  the  whole  congregation  voting 
on  the  reception  of  a  member  for  a 
long  time.  It  seems  to  me  that  is  the 
thing  to  do."  As  an  object  lesson  it  is 
worth  everything  to  the  Baptists,  and 
ought  to  be  witnessed  by  as  large  a 
number  as  possible.  But  the  tendency, 
in  our  cities,  is  to  thrust  it  aside  lest 
it  weary  the  Sunday  congregation. 

The  congregational  form  of  church 
government  is  destined  to  sweep  Amer- 
ica and  every  democracy-loving  people 
on  the  globe.  Everybody  ought  to  know 
we  stand  for  it. 

I  met  with  the 

pastor's  conference. 
composed  of  all  the  Baptist  preachers 

234 


in  and  around  the  city.  It  alternates 
its  meetings  between  San  Francisco  and 
Oakland. 

All  told,  I  suppose  they  have  about 
twenty-five  members.  One  morning  the 
hour  was  given  me  to  tell  about  mis- 
sion work  in  the  South.  They  were  es- 
pecially curious  to  know  something 
about  the  negroes.  They  fired  many 
questions  at  me,  which  I  answered  satis- 
factorily, I  suppose,  as  they  gave  me  a 
vote  of  thanks,  with  a  round  of  applause 
and  sent  greetings  to  the  Baptists  of 
Alabama. 

I  guess  Oakland  is  the  center  of  Bap- 
tist strength  for  Northern  California, 
as  Los  Angeles  is  for  Southern  Cal- 
ifornia— there  being  four  or  five  church- 
es in  the  city.    It  is  the  seat  of 

CALIFORNIA    COLLEGE, 

the  Baptist  college  of  the  State.  I  did 
not  visit  it,  but  from  the  statement  I 
heard  before  the  Conference  from  its 
President,  I  judge,  it  is  in  a  precarious 
condition.  It  does  seem  to  me,  if  Mr. 
Rockefeller  wants  to  help  the  Baptists 

235 


where  they  are  most  needy,  he  has  a 
great  opportunity  in  California.  From 
all  I  can  learn,  the  cause  is  suffering 
most,  for  the  want  of  pastors  who 
will  stick  to  the  State.  Those  they  have 
are  from  many  different  States  and 
from  England.  I  judge  they  are  good 
men  and  true;  but  unless  the  minds 
of  a  considerable  number  of  them  are 
made  up  to  remain  in  the  State,  the 
cause  of  the  Baptist  must  continue  to  be 
a  great  struggle.  A  floating  ministry,  in 
any  State,  cannot  give  permanency  to 
the  work.  Every  State  needs  and  must 
have  a  good,  large  element  of  natives 
in  the  ministry.  This,  California,  is 
almost  wholly  deficient  in,  I  suppose. 

It  was  my  privilege  to  hear  at  Los 
Angeles,  Dr.  Frost,  long  a  resident  of 
California,  and  said  to  be  the  strongest 
man  on  the  Coast.  He  is  strong  and 
rugged,  a  King  Saul  among  his  breth- 
ren in  stature,  and  his  sermon  was  full 
of  the  strong  meat  of  the  Gospel. 

Rev.  Joseph  Smale,  pastor  of  the 
First  Church,  I  heard  at  night.  It  was 
a  plain,  gospel  sermon,  delivered  in  an 
earnest,  impressive  manner.  His  church 

236 


is  probably  the  largest  and  richest  on 
the  Coast.  The  pastor  and  his  assist- 
ant are  both  Englishmen.  I  met  with 
the  Pastors'  Conference.  The  Bap- 
tists hereabouts  seem  to  be  nu- 
merous and  influential.  They  have  a 
vigorous,  aggressive  ministry,  who 
speak  hopefully  of  the  prospects.  I  was 
assured  that  the  religious  element  was 
quite  strong  and  pronounced  in  all 
Southern  California. 

ONE    SERIOUS    QUESTION 

agitating  the  brethren  on  the  Pacific 
Coast  I  found  to  be:  The  multiplicity 
of  agents  to  represent  the  various  de- 
nominational interests.  This  gave  es- 
pecial interest  to  my  talk  before  the  Pas- 
tors' Conference  at  Oakland.  It  seemed 
to  be  a  new  thing  with  them  that  one 
man  should  represent  all  the  mission  in- 
terests in  one  State,  as  we  do  in  Ala- 
bama. The  Missionary  Union  (their 
Foreign  Mission  Board,  (the  Home  Mis- 
sion Society,  The  American  Baptist 
Publication  Society,  each  have  a  man  to 
represent  their    interests,    and    besides 

237 


these  I  think  the  two  Woman's  Societis 
have  special  agents  also.  The  Northern 
Anniversaries,  with  which  the  churches 
on  the  Pacific  Coast  affiliate,  have  ap- 
pointed committees  on  co-operation,  but 
the  jealousies  existing  between  the  so- 
cieties stand  in  the  way  of  their  accom- 
plishing anything  toward  consolidation. 
There  is  no  question  in  the  minds  of 
any,  North  or  South,  but  that  our  Con- 
vention plan  is  better  to  bring  about  con- 
cert of  action.  I  should  have  been  de- 
lighted to  have  studied  closer  the  Bap- 
tist situation  and  cultivated  the  breth- 
ren in  California,  but  my  time  was  too 
short.  They  are  struggling  with  un- 
solved problems  on  that  side  as  we  are 
on  this  side. 

May  Heaven  help  them  and  us  with 
that  wisdom  that  comes  from  above. 


238 


